Fade away into the forest dim
by Niahara Erskine
Summary: A Beast lived in the Castle, it was well-known. A demon spewed by the shadows, a wretched being of evil that demanded a tribute each year. An Offering and a Name. Always both if the village was to be spared forever. Just an Offering if the village was to be spared another year. [Akakuro]
1. Chapter 1

_"True Names have power; they are seared into a person's very being at birth, part of themselves intrinsically tied to their very existence. To know another's name is to control a part of that person, the essence of their very being, to hold it captive, a victim to the whims of the one who holds such knowledge. True Names offer powers like none other, the power to subjugate, to control, to command the very life and death of one if you so choose._

 _True Names will always hold this power, regardless of the way in which they are found. However, the ultimate folly is to offer another your name. Stolen names are dangerous it is true, but present gap holes, the ability to wrestle back ones name from the one holding such knowledge. However, if a person were to offer another their name, their dominion over them would be absolute. No power, no matter how great in this universe, can restore what was offered freely. True Names are not ever offered among spouses; it would be as though one tore out their very soul and presented it to another to do as they wished to them. Once a True Name is uttered aloud, once it is heard by another, it no longer belongs to its owner. Rather it belongs to the person that heard it._

 _This is why each child is spellbound, their knowledge of their name locked until they are of age; to protect them from those who would take advantage of their innocence._

 _To lose one's name is to court death. To offer one's name to another is to surrender yourself completely."_ ( On the Power of Names, by Mage Harasawa )

It is a well-known rule, one drilled in the minds of all from the moment they are old enough to comprehend. Do not tell another your True Name, do not give them power over you. To offer a True Name is the sign of ultimate trust. To demand another's True Name is the sign of ultimate malice.

Perhaps this is why the Beast demands both every year. An Offering and a Name, complete power over the victim stepping past the iron wrought gates, along with the promise that should both sacrifices be met the village will be left in peace forevermore.

Perhaps this is why none of the Offerings ever return; why the village must offer yet another sacrifice each year. For offered the choice, all preferred the sweet kiss of Death to the loss of their names.

* * *

The shadows had started creeping over the land one day, wrapping tendrils of darkness around all they found in their path, be it man, beast or plant. Crops withered under their touch, the weather soured and a numb coldness replaced it all. The world turned grey; grey fields and homes tended by hopeless people going through the mechanics of each day, mere puppets on strings ruled by the circumstances they now had to adhere to.

The forest bordering the village echoed with the howls of wolves and beasts, fear given voice and form, freezing the very blood in the veins of those unlucky enough to live nearby. There was no talk of hunting anymore; how could it when the best archers the village had to offer entered the forest one day never to be seen. Bones returned now and then; severed limbs and caved in skulls frozen in a rictus of fear rolled past the borders of the village, pushed by unseen hands. A warning and a message: do not step past your boundaries least you wish to lose your lives.

And then there was the castle, the old, derelict vestige of bygone times that had gone uninhabited for so long. The shadows seemed to thrive there the most, locking it in a loving embrace and snuffing out even the slightest sliver of light that dared attempt to pierce the gloom.

A Beast lived in the Castle, it was well-known. A demon spewed by the shadows, a wretched being of evil that demanded a tribute each year. An Offering and a Name. Always both if the village was to be spared forever. Just an Offering if the village was to be spared another year. The Beast was never seen, yet its voice was heard drifting over the gloom of the forest, icy and commanding.

It was folly to try and go against it; yet it has ever been in human nature to rebel and rebel they did. When the Command first came, the villagers took up arms, poised to fight the very darkness that threatened their lives. They did not make it past the outermost border of the woods; the forest ate them up and did not even bother spitting the bones. Crippled by loss, the remaining survivors decided to wait another year, to gather their forces and try anew. And so they sent the first Offering… and another and another.

Decades have passed since then.

* * *

The Beast did not care who was to be his Offering; he cared little what passed his threshold, be it man or woman, elderly or in their prime. He cared little for their past or present, for those left behind or those that bid them riddance. The Beast cared only for their answer to his question. Will their relinquish their name freely?

As such, the Beast had no rule but one regarding his Offerings: never will a child pass the iron-wrought gates.

The villagers had tried, of course they had; desperation, grief, fear, cruelty, all had made strong adults push young children in the woods, breaths kept as they waited for the cries to come and the howls to pierce the night. They never did; come morning the children would be back in their midst, confused looks filling lost gazes and in their place a sacrifice would be chosen randomly, blank eyed and spellbound, dragged in the woods by strings handled by a master puppeteer. These Offerings were not even asked for their choice; their lives were brought to a swift end.

It was such a rule that had spared Kuroko till then. But no longer…

He had expected to be chosen.

He had expected to be chosen ever since his mother had died and his father had been sent in the woods as an Offering. As a child, he had not been eligible, but Kuroko was no longer a child so the villagers could finally do as they wished. Be rid of the one they so desperately wished to see the last of…

The forest path sprawled beneath his feet; overgrown roots and sharp rocks peppering the way forth. The shrill hoot of an owl rang from a nearby branch. His breath coalesced in small, white wisps, dissolving in the frigid air of the woods. It got progressively colder as he made his way forth, the soggy ground giving way to ice and snow as he neared the gate. All around him, in the foliage, golden eyes watched with hungered gazes; he trudged through the snow, one step in front of the other, breathing becoming more and more laborious while he made his way forth. Steps echoed in the air behind him, the crunch of the snow beneath clawed paws sending chunks of ice through his veins.

The shadows became darker as he got closer and closer, oppressive and thick, curling around his ankles while he walked, a sinister grip making him stumble here and there. The gates loomed above him as he neared them, covered in thorns, thick vines curling around the rusted metal almost as though they wished to crumbled it beneath their fury.

Kuroko took a deep breath. The lump longed in his throat refused to dislodge so he covered the few steps left until the fence with his heart hammering like a hummingbird in his chest. A howl echoed to his right, sharp and hungered. His hand – pale and trembling – rose to touch the metal, to push it open, but the gates swung open out of their own according, a mocking beckoning of welcome. Past the gates, the grounds seemed silent. An unnatural stillness kept everything frozen; no hint of life permeated the emptiness of his surroundings.

It was well known. Birds did not sing in the realm of the Beast. Animals did not thrive there. All scurried in fear of the darkness surrounding the castle and its master.

There was no turning back. Without a moment of hesitation, the blue haired boy squared his shoulders and marched forth in the awaiting gloom. Behind him the doors swung shut, a rusty screech of disuse echoing in the air before all became submerged in silence once more.

* * *

If it's a Beast it can be slain. If It's a Demon it can be banished. If it's a curse it can be lifted.

Such had been the mantra of the villagers in the very beginning, back when their fearful letters had been sent to the king, begging for aid in face of the terror that usurped them. Knights had come then, clad in silvery armor, with sword hanging at their hips and the lust for war, for glory ripe in their eyes. Clerics had come as well, garbed in their flowing black robes, holy books in hand and the light of faith shrouding them in a wave of confidence. Last had come the mages, power cracking beneath their fingers, golden eyed and solemn, their march forth neither as boisterous as that of the knights, nor as confident as that of the priests. They, of all three, knew there was something inherent wrong in the woods, but they had come to try and try they did no matter the outcome.

The forest still tosses their belonging back to the village now and then; rusty sword bent at unnatural angles are brought to the border by twisting vines slithering over the ground. The thorn pages of holy books drift in the wind, floating lazily before combusting as they reach the main square. Wands and staves, broken and splintered, their magical conducts devoid of power roll at the feet of children who pick them up and use them as weapons in their makeshift games.

The forest does not allow fools to weather its paths. It takes and it takes and it takes until all that is left is a husk of the being that once was or a shambling corpse lying in a ditch somewhere. And those are the lucky ones; for there are some that are not fools. Some that are strong and witty, that know to navigate its paths and evade its dangers. For those, the castle remains as final destination. One from which they can never return.

They may be strong. They may be smart. But the Beast has never tasted defeat. And none of those that had passed the threshold of the castle have ever returned.

* * *

It was perhaps jarring to think that no matter what he would have done, the outcome was to always be this. A lonely march past the gates of the castle, through the dead garden shrouded in shadow and silence. It should have been disheartening, Kuroko thought, but all that he was able to feel as the snow gave way under his steps and the seemingly sentient vines parted for him, was relief.

Relief to be away; relief to break free of the vitriol spewed by the villagers each time they laid eyes upon him.

 _Demon child, damned child_

The jeers had started ever since he had been a mere babe, swaddled in his mother's arms. From the very first moment they had laid eyes upon him, blue hair and cerulean eyes making a stark contrast with the visage of the other inhabitants.

 _Moon child, cursed child_

A waning moon had gleamed above their heads as his father had beheld him the first time, the joy of a newborn eclipsed by the looks of horror, of disgust plastered on the faces of those near them. Superstition had ever ruled the village and with the appearance of the Beast all that looked different was deemed otherworldly, tainted.

 _Ghost child, blighted child_

He realized early on that they were not able to see him at all times. They looked through him, a veritable living ghost treading the paths of the village, unseen and often unheard. The shadows protected him, the light of the moon hid him and as he found himself alone, Kuroko learned to use them more and more.

His mother had been his fierce protector. She had loved him with every fiber of her being until sickness has stolen her from him; the scent of her lily perfume, the warmth of her hug and the brightness of her smile still clung to his memory.

His father must have loved him too, for he had fought for Kuroko when the villagers had damned him with merely a glance, raged against their bigoted, superstitious views. He had been chosen as Offering when Kuroko had been a toddler still clinging to his mother's skirts, been ripped apart from his family and sacrificed to the woods. There were no memories of him left, but his scarf hung loosely around Kuroko's neck as he made his way forth.

 _Demon child, ghost child_

To be unseen is not to be unknown. As soon as he had passed the threshold past childhood, Kuroko had realized what was to come, the sealing of a fate long in the making. He had preferred to leave on his own terms, to strip them of this ultimate victory. Satchel in hand, he had remained elusive until the day had come and when it did, he had passed the border by himself, under the furious eyes of the villagers.

Hours from that moment, with the forest and the gardens left behind, he moved past the imposing stone fountain and reached the bottom of the stairs to the castle, twisted gargoyles guarding them on each side. Ice coated the stone surfaced, the air more frigid than anywhere else, the shadows present as always. His hand grabbed the railing tightly, gloveless fingers almost blue due to the weather's capricious nature. A step, another and another, careful footsteps seeking purchase on the slippery surface and finally the journey was at an end.

The doors swung open by themselves as the gates had, a single flickering candle beckoning him inside. A shaky breath wrecked his body; the instinct to flee when met with dangerous circumstances gripped his heart tightly. Inside, the castle was dark and dusty, cobwebs illuminated by the pale light. He shook, trembling from fear and cold, his limbs almost numb. The wind picked up pace as he stood undecided, pressing at him mercilessly, making his mind up for him.

No turning back, no turning back, no turning back.

Steely resolve washed over him, determination bursting over apprehensive features. His feet moved out of their own accord, leading Kuroko inside, deeper and deeper as the candle that had lingered almost in the doorway before, moved further and further away. A loud bang echoed in the castle, a signal that the doors had been closed.

A chuckle echoed from the darkness, the sound of icy amusement and Kuroko froze, eyes flickering to every corner, squinted gaze trying to discern anything in the gloom.

"Such a tiny offering," darkness wrapped around the words uttered, the promise of danger bleeding through seemingly soft spoken syllables. "Were I not to know better, I would peg you for a child still."

Kuroko froze, his body tuning immobile as the voice came nearer and nearer, bringing the shadows along with it, obscuring the remaining vestiges of light. The boy alone seemed to be illuminated, a tiny gleam in the encompassing darkness. "My servants reassured me otherwise. What is it that they called you? An Offering that offered itself. Most curious indeed. How many of your peers had to be forcefully pushed past the threshold? How many broke down and wept, begged for mercy as they ventured in my woods? How many tried to turn back, not realizing it was too late? And yet you moved past the border out of your own volition…"

A hand broke out of the gloom, resting on Kuroko's shoulder and making him flinch at the sudden touch. The skin was pale, milky white, long, elegant fingers framed by black claws resting in the simplest of grasp on the woolen cloth of Kuroko's clothes, and yet betraying a deceptively strong grip. "Impressive and yet so utterly foolish," the voice continued, a derisive edge to the utterly inhuman tone. "Tell me, little offering, are you a fool to walk such into the Beast's lair? Do you love your peers so much?" A scoff at the word love, vitriol coating the four letters spoken almost with fury, though the tone remained calm, yet commandeering. An answer was expected and one had to be given.

"I wished to be rid of them. There are not many ways in which that was achievable," the boy replied, voice calm and collected, betraying none of the turmoil he felt inside. His blue gaze remained blank, unfeeling, features schooled into a mask of uninterested politeness that had kept him alive till then.

He did not expect the Beast to come closer out of a sudden, echoes of feet shuffling forth, dragging the shadows with him. He did not expect the grip on his shoulder to tighten and a pair of eyes to glint in the darkness – mismatched, one red, one gold. Neither did he expect the laughter coming from the other, rich with amusement as his features seemed to bleed out from the shadows, coalescing into a deceptively human face.

"Interesting. You are an interesting Offering," a grin split the other's features, a glimpse of sharp teeth given as his lips parted briefly in amusement, gaze riveted on the blue haired boy. The rest of his body remained firmly surrounded by darkness, a caressing embrace of a deadly lover and Kuroko wondered briefly whether the Beast commanded the shadows or whether the shadows themselves chose to subject themselves to his rule.

"Tell me little Offering, will you give me what I seek? Will you give me your name or shall I devour you whole?"

Kuroko did not need time to think; his mind had been made up the moment he had stepped through the circle of trees, the cold forest accepting him as Offering.

"Tetsuya. My name is Tetsuya," and his blue eyes glinted with a new sort of determination, cerulean gaze meeting the mismatched one of the Beast squarely. The Beast laughed, a chilling crow of amusement and the shadows parted, revealing him fully for the first time. Black wings, leathery and spindly, unfurled at his back, their tips brushing the cobbled floor. Red hair gleamed in the semi-darkness, a dying sunset scarlet as fey like as Kuroko's own sky blue, tousled strands. A pair of ivory black horns jutted out above the Beast's slightly pointed ears, arching back in wicked sharp tips. He looked demonic, otherworldly, and yet Kuroko did not quail nor cower at the sight.

"Tetsuya," the Beast crooned, a crooked grin twisting his features. "Tetsuya," he repeated, the syllables rolling off his tongue as if tasting them, victory palpable in the simple word. "You may call me Akashi."


	2. Chapter 2

_"There is no remembering when True Name have burst into existence. Historical records tell us they have not always been present, but no one is able to reach an accord what event marked their birth. It simply remains known that one day, awareness washed over the citizens of the land, their True Names searing themselves in their minds. Their dangers were not perceived from the very beginning; true names were exchanged freely in the beginning, spouses sharing them with one another, comrades of arms offering such knowledge to the ones they trusted their lives with, siblings innocently uttering them out loud to the ones they shared blood with._

 _History still remembers the strong, three-fold bond between Generals Kiyoshi, Hyuuga and Aida, a formidable trio that had shared True Names among them and used their powers to create unbreachable and successful war strategies. Their victories, legendary even nowadays, led their land to a prolonged time of prosperity and peace that lasted up to their death. However, despite such tales that are present in popular recollection, the stories of betrayal are more prevalent when linked to the powers of True Names._

 _Perhaps one of the most disastrous stories of betrayal linked to True Names related to the members of the Kirisaki Daiichi knights. Unscrupulous, cunning and remorseless, the knights took advantage of the freedom with which True Names were shared in those times and gathered an army subservient to their will, a squad of slaves they commandeered in order to win lands and wars alike, sacrificing their lives with no remorse. The people had no way of fighting back, the names either offered or stolen, keeping them tight in the clutches of the knights. It wasn't until they sought to attack Seirin, the land ruled by the trio of Generals mentioned before that they tasted defeat. The legendary generals managed to decimate the Kirisaki Daiichi knights, remove the threat forevermore, but not without heavy losses._

 _Unfortunately, the knights were just the beginning. Drunk with the power to control their peers, more and more people started using True Names for ill. In time, the uttering of a True Name became a taboo, a fear permeating in all lands._

 _To share your True Name with another is to trust that person: heart, body and soul."_ ( On the history of True Names by Mage Takeuchi )

* * *

The Beast gazed at him intently, the same sardonic smile plastered firmly on Akashi's face as he stood in amused, victorious silence for a few moments. At his reveal, the shadows had parted slightly, scurried away from the presence of the Castle's Master, keeping firmly to the sidelines until they were to be summoned again. Candles started coming alight all over the castle, shedding a dim brilliance over the entire expanse of the antechamber they found themselves in.

Spiraling staircases rose from the cobbled ground, leading east and west, the entrances to what must be the castle's wings. There was a sad grandeur to the place, a sort of tragic beauty that painted what must have once been beauty and light, in dusty hallways and shadowed rooms. However, there was something else clinging to the castle's walls, something past the Beast standing in front of him and the shadow waiting his command, that spoke of a wrongness, a twisted sort of half-existence that embraced it with abandon.

"There are rules to this place, my Offering," Akashi suddenly spoke. "Rules that you must follow should you wish to keep your life. Riddles you must answer if you are to survive," a careless grin settled on his features, eyes alight with anticipation. He was toying with the other, like a cat holding a mouse captive in its paws. Apprehension washed over Kuroko, the knowledge that matters were but at a start, the feeling of the unknown weighing on his shoulders. The villagers had never known; they had surrendered to death as soon as the offer had been made. But Kuroko wished to live, even bereft of a True Name as he was.

"The castle is shrouded in everlasting winter, little Offering. The snow does not melt. The wolves never leave. The shadows see all. Stepping past the gardens is ill advised. Trying to flee, well, that would be tantamount to throwing your life away. I do not believe you are so foolish. The west wing of the castle is off limits; do not pass its threshold no matter what you do, for I will not be lenient." Mismatched eyes flashed with a moment of fury, the only loss of composure present on Akashi' features.

However, despite his threat, the Beast had not uttered Kuroko's True Name; apart from the first moment, when Akashi had reveled in this triumph, never once had he spoken Kuroko's name while laying down the rules. It was a test, that much the blue haired boy could see. A test whose failure would end in death. A test that demanded absolute obeisance for a chance of survival. Kuroko had no wish to surrender that chance so easily. Nothing awaited him past the borders of the gardens, back in the village that had shunned him so. All that was left was to move forth; a dangerous game of chess where the stakes were the highest and he was merely a pawn, facing an opponent much more skilled than him. The odds had ever been against him; it would have been a surprising chance were they to twist in his favor.

"You hold my name. You could order me not to pass the gardens, were you so inclined." His voice remained as polite as ever, collected and cool. Showing emotions was a weakness, a chink in an armor wrapped much too tightly around his very being.

"If I were so inclined," the Beast echoed the statement, a dismissive edge to his words. "I am not. You are interesting, offering and you have already gotten further than the rest of your lot. But I will not aid you, no matter how interesting you might be. There is more hiding in the shadows than the monster of the villagers' nightmares," he grinned, dangerous and cutting, a humorless sort of smile that echoed the darkness of the world. "If you wish to survive, you must discover the castle's secrets for yourself. But that is to come later; you are half-frostbitten. Come, Tetsuya!"

The command sent a jolt through Kuroko's very being, wrapping around his limbs before he even had the chance to allow himself to move. His feet started shuffling forth, obedient as they followed the path set by Akashi. At the top of the swirling staircase, a large hallway opened, torches flickering on both its sides, illuminating heavy wooden doors with carvings etched in their fibre – vines, twisted and curving, filling the dark brown surface, golden edges framing the corners of the door. Each door seemed to be an identical mirror to the one in front of it, no element distinguishing between them.

"Bedchambers. You may choose the one that appeals to you most. The wardrobe should fill itself accordingly afterwards. Dinner is served at seven, sharp. I expect you not to be late." Kuroko nodded wordlessly, fingers moving to trace the carvings on the door.

"Tetsuya," Akashi spoke as he turned his back on the blue haired boy, wings flaring in silent warning at his back. "I expect you to be better at this game of survival than the rest of your witless peers. Do not disappoint me."

The same jolt as before flared in Kuroko's soul, a sharp, demanding need flaring within him, as well as a sort of warning ache settling into his bones. Before he had a chance to answer, Akashi had disappeared, the corridor remaining as dim-lit and silent as before.

"No turning back," Kuroko squared his shoulders, hands pushing open the nearest door and stepping inside. The same grandeurs that encompassed the rest of the castle was present in the room; the same loneliness as well. However, in comparison to the other rooms, it seemed clean; fresh linens covered the four-poster bed, the drapes a striking shade of scarlet, complimenting perfectly the russet carpet lying on the stone floor. A nondescript wardrobe stood to the side, the same carvings present on the door acting as ornaments. The only element that preserved the dusty appearance of the rest of the castle was the mirror, small and gilded, propped on the northern wall, a white sheen of grime covering it in its entirety.

"No turning back." The door closed at Kuroko's prompting, a sound of finality ringing in the air. No turning back. Not then, not ever.

* * *

Dinner was a silent affair, a game of assessment between the two. The meal was lavish, more so than anything the boy had seen in his life, an array of exotic foods and traditional meals. And yet, no matter how filling and tasty, there was something wrong with the food as it was with the rest of the castle. The flavor did not linger, dulling as the last bite was taken, flavor lost, fading to ash and cardboard. The rich sweetness of the desert soured at the end, tartness replacing that which had once tasted delicious.

Mismatched red-gold eyes bore into cerulean ones, but neither spoke until the meal had come to an end. Kuroko kept the same mask of dull disinterest on, emotions and questions masked behind layers and layers of survival instincts kicking in, information filling in even as he carefully assessed everything around him.

"Was the meal to your liking, little offering?" The question broke the silence out of the blue, an inquiry so mundane that for the briefest of moments Kuroko floundered to answer it.

"It was," a simple reply, a half-lie but also a half-truth. In the village, a damned orphan as himself had often spent the day with hunger gnawing at his insides. The food of the castle, though strange with its metamorphosis, was filling nonetheless, chasing the hunger away and replenishing the strength lost during the trudge through the woods.

"Very well." In a fluid motion, Akashi rose from his seat, ebony wings twitching at his back when he moved. The embers of the fireplace mirrored in his gaze, the same sort of anticipation present as he beheld Kuroko. It made the boy wonder what exactly the Beast was seeking, what was the riddle that wrapped the castle and its Master in mystery. "The shadows cling to you, little offering. Not with malice, like they did to the others, but with a sense of camaraderie. An interesting turn of events."

"The others?" Confusion laced the two words, furrowed brows breaking for a moment the impassive look settled comfortably on Kuroko's features. The tales said that all those who refused so offer their names, died the very next moment.

"I do not delight in human flesh, Tetsuya," Akashi replied casually, "The shadows are the ones that demand payment from the Offerings. It would get tedious if all those that passed the gates were to meet their end the very same day. They are pawns in a game of chess; how many moves they are able to make depends on their skills. Few made it far; most tried to cling to the protection of their room until starvation and despair pushed them past the threshold."

"And the question?" There was no need to mention which question Kuroko referred to. They both knew it; the very question that Kuroko had answered differently than the rest.

"The first test. The first lie. This castle is wrapped in both. The game cannot be won without the offering of a name."

"Another riddle?" Kuroko asked casually, half expecting no answer to be given to his inquiry.

"Perhaps. Though answers can be found if one knows where to seek them. No knowledge is ever truly lost, merely misplaced." With these parting words, Akashi disappeared from sight, the shadows gathering to obscure his departure. In the dining room the candles flickered slightly, their light cowering in face of the darkness, before blazing once more.

Light and shadow. Kuroko nodded to himself, the first tendrils of an idea gathering in his mind. He rose from his seat, steps taking him back to his bedroom before the castle plunged into darkness. He had not forgotten Akashi's warnings, those spoken and those left unspoken; there was a danger to the shadows, regardless of their apparent predilection for Kuroko. To linger needlessly in their midst after nightfall would be folly. The flickering lights were already dying out… And if his bedroom was a safe spot, Kuroko would take advantage of a good night's sleep before another day dawned. Come morning, he would seek the library and answers to the mystery he had found himself tied to.

* * *

 _"The villagers are fools, superstitious fools that see but do not comprehend. They glimpse ghosts in the shadows, monsters in the castle, doom in their midst. They babble, frightened, dark glances thrown at the gloom surrounding them, but fail to understand what truly matters. They called for us and we came, but we need no more than a glance to tell that the matters are well beyond our powers. We will try, for we have sworn, but I fear it is here that we shall all meet our doom._

 _The wolves patrol the perimeter of the forest, beast of great height and strength that have not been seen in other parts of our world since the dawn of time. The weather acts to aid them, blizzards picking up pace if one that is not an Offering steps foot inside the woods. And then there's the shadows, always moving, grasping, merciless. Twisted and cursed; I fear to name what they once were, for if I am right, an act more vile than anything imaginable has been dealt. Such magic should have been lost to time and never retrieved again._

 _After, comes the garden, a sprawling mass of land that must have once burst with life. Now it is dead, frozen in time, immobile. One untuned to the acts of magic might perceive it as simply an oddity surrounding the castle, but the unnatural stillness of the gardens is anything but. It is a breach of the laws of magic, the result of twisting the laws of nature until they bend to your whim. To have made it as far as this, is a miracle in itself, but I fear this is where my journey ends. Already my lungs seize, the curse freezing the very air in my lungs. A foolish mistake, to have touched the gargoyle, an act of hubris and curiosity that shall lead to my end. I leave this notes to my peers, in case their mission does not end the same way as mine._

 _If it does I hope that you, however you are that might have found these notes, will be able to succeed where we have failed. There is more at stake here than a mere village, much more than you could ever imagine."_


	3. Chapter 3

_"There are some who believe True Names were never meant to happen; they were a backslash, the result of an act abominable enough to shake the very foundations of magic, to twist its laws irremediably in the cruelest of ways. Shamans will speak of such a belief, closeted around their forest circles, the vapors of their concoctions shrouding their features in smoke. A travesty, they will call True Names, unnatural, wrong, a taint in the Natural Order. They will curse their existence and whisper unintelligible phrases in their mother tongue. True Names are a lie, they will later add, powers that have been twisted beyond comprehension until the very truth lying at their core has been forgotten. The stories we hear of them nowadays are insidious half-truths that have been turning us against one another for centuries._

 _The shaman of the northern tribes even go as far as denying their True Name, undergoing blood rituals as soon as they are of age in order to erase them. Some die in the process, some lose their minds and yet all agree this is the course of action to be taken. They claim collective memory tells of a great wrong done in the past, one that was the catalyst for the existence of True Names. However, they are unable to explain what that great wrong might have been."_ ( Superstitions and religious beliefs by Mage Kagetora )

* * *

Whereas the rest of the castle was silence, the library was chaos, a patchwork of tattered pages and parchments, drenched in splashed of ink. To make sense of it was laborious work, as handwritten notes overlapped with magically etched letters strewn carelessly over the scattered papers. Books littered the ground, their covers torn and teared, their spines bent to the point of no return. The entire place was covered in a thin layer of dust and grime, unbefitting of a library, yet alone one belonging to a castle.

Kuroko remained undaunted; his long-forgotten breakfast casually laid near him – vanilla pudding and a small assortment of fruit that had burst into existence upon his entry in the empty dining room – he shuffled through book, paper and parchment seeking to unlock the mysteries of the Castle. It was slow going work; mad ravings and fearful scribbles peppered the majority of the writings. Journals, some held by Offerings and some by the few survivors sent by the King that made it to the Castle showed more promise of offering answers, but even those were littered with superstitions, questions and terror of what lurked in the dark.

The fireplace creaked in the room; the scribbles of quill on paper, the slow drip of ink filled the remaining silence with a pleasant hum that seemed to cast part of the gloom aside; it was lonely, though not overwhelmingly so. The pleasant weight of the books on the table, the sound of the logs burning in the flames and his own breath, still laborious after the trudge through the cold forest the day before, came as a welcoming change from the fearful, self-imposed solitary existence that had accompanied him at all times in the village.

Perhaps to those used to the hustle and bustle of society, the silence of the castle and the looming presence of the Beast – of Akashi, Kuroko corrected himself mentally – was enough to break them, to make them crack. To drive them past the gates, back in the forest and the jaws of the wolves.

 _'I can't stand it anymore. I'm leaving this hellhole. I don't care, it's impossible. There is no answer to be found, it's a deathtrap. The shadows always lurking, reaching for me. I can feel their touch. And his gaze, that demonic, malevolent gaze. I can face a few dozen wolves, I'm a knight, I can, I can, I can…'_

Perhaps for some, the solitude was enough to make them foolhardy, to drive them to try and slide a dagger between Akashi's ribs, to set fire to the castle and see the blazing fire chase away the lurking shadows.

 _'He was wrong to send us. Wrong, wrong, wrong so very wrong. Kasuga died for nothing; Sakamoto died in vain. But I won't; I won't crawl on my belly like a witless worm, waiting death to claim me. There is no breaking this curse, but I can kill him. Kill him and burn this place down until the fires eat away at the shadows. Then there's going to be only the forest and that forsaken sepulcher.'_

Kuroko could see when they snapped; when their writing changed from hopeful to resigned and then when terror took over. They feared the shadows. They feared Akashi. Many feared a curse only they seemed to be able to discern – those were perhaps the magic users. They feared the mirrors and the light and the dark. But above all they feared something all left unnamed.

 _'Beware the shadows. Beware the Beast. Beware the Sepulcher. But above all beware that which guides them. Things are not as they seem. Beware.'_

Kuroko held no such fears; his life had been wrestled from fate, day after day after day spent in the midst of those who abhorred his very existence. The shadows of the village had been his allies, his protectors, and even now the shadows of the castle felt more reassuring than threatening.

"I trust your reading has been enlightening," a hand settled on Kuroko's shoulders, the silent approach making the boy fight back a flinch. Akashi stood beside him, half-shrouded in shadows still, his features barely visible in the gloom clinging to his very being.

"It has been up until Akashi-san interrupted me," the teal haired boy answered in a flat voice, thinly veiled disapproval lingering in cerulean eyes.

"You have been closeted in this dusty old room for hours now, Tetsuya," the other pointed out nonchalantly. "Lunch is about to be served and I expect you to accompany me when the moment comes."

"And if I were to refuse?" An emotionless inquiry, one that conveyed neither curiosity nor rebellion, and yet a spark flared in Kuroko's gaze, before dying out. Assessment if nothing else.

"I could always make it an order, Tetsuya," Akashi replied, an edge to the way in which he uttered Kuroko's True Name, a clear warning that left the other undaunted.

"And what would Akashi-san gain from such an order?" Kuroko challenged tonelessly. "It would be quite a petty use of my True Name." Despite his words, his hands were already working on gathering his scattered notes, attention focused on the task at hand and not the master of the Castle.

The shadows gathered around Akashi, hiding the somewhat startled expression on his face that soon morphed to amusement. Interesting, such an interesting little offering. Brave enough to challenge him even knowing that Akashi held complete power over him. Fearless when others stronger and commanding forces more powerful than him had quivered in their boots at the mere sight of the Beast.

There was something about the boy, an enigma that Akashi wanted to unravel just as Kuroko tried to discover the mysteries of the castle. Part of Akashi actually wondered whether either of them would be successful. Another part of him desperately wanted them to be, but he snuffed it before it would have time to grow. Hope let to disappointment; there was no need to nurture such useless emotions.

He retreated to the shadows, allowed them to mask his existence entirely as he headed towards the dining room.

Unsurprisingly, the blue haired boy failed to arrive in time for lunch.

* * *

"Do you play chess, Tetsuya?" The question startled Kuroko out of his reverie, eyes moving from the parchment he had been scanning to the Master of the House. They had been spending the past several hours together, in companionship silence, in one of the many salons of the castle. As soon as he had arrived, Akashi had busied himself with a book, making no mention of Kuroko's failure in joining him for lunch. The teal-haired boy had also played the card of oblivious innocence, continuing to read the many papers he had liberated from the library.

"I have, on occasion. My mother taught me and we used to play in the evenings, while she was still alive." Afterwards, playing chess had been the least of his worries. Survival became tantamount and frivolities were cast aside; he had liked to indulge once in a while, when foreigners passed through the village, beckoning them to a game of chess if they took note of his presence. One of them, a knight that had remained in the village the longest, had been abysmal at the game. Still, he indulged Kuroko's requests each time. It ached sometimes, to think of Izuki-san and his puns, as bad as his chess play and yet still silly enough to draw a smile from Kuroko each time. He wondered what fate had beheld him in the forest.

"Will you join me for a game?" The shadows to the far corner of the room parted, revealing a stone table that had not been there before, coupled with a chess board and an ivory chess set, so much more elegant than Kuroko's own rough, hand carved one that sat at the bottom of his still unpacked satchel.

"Yes," a curt nod was offered as Kuroko moved to the board, settling comfortably in front of the white pieces. Across from him Akashi took control of the red and their game began. They played until the candles in the room melted almost completely, the blaze of the fireplace shedding just enough light to allow them to finish their game.

"Checkmate," Akashi's took Kuroko's bishop with ease, cornering the white king and bringing an end to the match. A thoughtful expression settled on his features, as he beheld the board; the game had gone much longer than he had anticipated.

"You are quite a skilled player, Kuroko." Ever since Imayoshi had met his end in the gardens, Akashi had had no worthy opponent to play against.

"Thank you, Akashi-san. I fear my skills have gotten rusty," Kuroko's voice held a hint of rueful acceptance, pale fingers closing around the white king and tipping him down. "I demand a rematch to salvage my honor," he added deadpan, the only sign of humor lingering in a challenging glance.

"Very well, Tetsuya, very well. Show me what you can," Akashi accepted the challenge, a grin, sharp and dangerous settling on his features. By the time dinner time came, all matches had been won by Akashi, yet Kuroko remained undaunted. If anything, the teal-haired boy had seemed more determined than ever.

* * *

 _'Sometimes I marvel how little the villagers truly understand. How much they have forgotten. Their stories have lost so much of their truth until nary a grain remains any longer. Lies and twisted imagination, dooming villager, after villager, because they simply do not remember. Their monster is a lie, a scapegoat hiding the true evil, yet another like all of us, one that sees more than the rest combined. However, there are patterns to this game, rules that must be adhered to and he cannot break them even if he wished. The Beast is a key but the lock must be opened by another. Remember! The castle is wrapped in lies and misbelief. Trust nothing but your instinct. Trust no one but yourself. Beware the moonless night for that is when they come.'_

The coughs started in the third day; a claw lodged itself in his chest, squeezing his lung, making his already laborious breath even harsher. Slight shivers wrecked his body, no matter how warm he was or how much the fire blazed. His limbs ached, his body felt like a massive sore and Kuroko had little idea what it was that was ailing him. Surely the aftereffects of his walk through the woods would have died out until then, instead of increasing in intensity. There was little that could be done; the boy resigned himself to wishing from a steaming bowl of soup from the kitchen and closed the door to the library behind him.

Kuroko wandered through the dead halls of the castle, the dust and the grime lodging in his throat and clogging his lungs. He coughed, a rattily sound that already jarred his shivering body – no matter how many layers he piled, it seemed to not be enough for him. The candles came alight here and then, banishing some of the shades to the far recesses of the hall, illuminating a way that lead to the far end of the east wing. The journal clutched in his hands seemed a better lead than most of what he had found till then, a cohesive collection of memories and observations by a Mage, Imayoshi Shoichi. Some of his writings had later been annotated by a cleric, one Mayuzumi, but in the very beginning his additions seemed to be far and in between.

 _'There is a Sepulcher on the grounds, a derelict old tomb that does not hide bones and dust, but rather a mystery I have yet to decipher. Beware it and remember; the rule is in the colors, in the flashes of light that chase the darkness away. Remember; that which thrives in the dark cannot touch you in the light, but the opposite does not always hold true.'_

A corridor veered left and the boy followed it, curiosity leading his footsteps. A stairway, smaller and derelict – perhaps one meant for servants once, when the castle was still thriving – winded downwards, breaking from the main body of the castle and ending with a small arched door, leading to the outside. The window to his left gave a glimpse of the white desolation beyond the castle, the fountain a mere speck in the distance. Behind the door, a cobbled path started, narrow and winding, half hidden in the layers of snow settled comfortably over it. A path that led further into the heart of the gardens, towards a stone Sepulcher, tall and looming, the shadows clinging to it more tightly than they did to any other part of the castle. Although the warning from the notes rang stark in his memory, Kuroko did not turn back.

 _'Remember; a warrior's pride is not his sword, a cleric's love is not his faith, a mage's strength is not his magic. Remember, the monster is a lie. Remember: Moon, Temperance, Hermit, Tower, Emperor. Ask the Tower but do not expect a clear answer. He cannot give it! Ask the Moon and read between the lines. He will help you. Ask not the Hermit for he will not answer. Ask not the Emperor for he will give you a false truth. Beware of Temperance; his answers may aid or hinder.'_

The notes added by Mayuzumi to Imayoshi's notes came back to him, fingers turning white against the leather cover of the journal still clutched in his grasp. The Sepulcher lay beyond; another mystery of the puzzle. Another question to be answered. Moon, Temperance, Hermit, Tower, Emperor. What was the meaning behind those words and what link did they have to the Sepulcher?

The wind picked up pace around him, bettering him mercilessly with ice and snow, his chilled body reminding him vividly that no matter how many layers he gathered one on top of the other, his clothing was still not suited for the outdoors. He stumbled, jerking to a halt and wrapped himself more tightly in his woolen cloak.

Before he could make his way forth once more, a new coughing fit washed over him, the attack leaving him breathless and weak. His knees wobbled, body tilting forth, dark spots dancing at the edge of his vision. His lungs seized, the air making its way inside insufficient to sustain him and he fell, the snow cushioning his landing. It was cold, icy cold and his clothes were no shelter against the weather, tremors already settling in, but Kuroko could not muster the power to rise. Darkness took over and he surrendered to it.

Later, the first thing Kuroko noticed when he woke was that he was finally warm and comfortable, his skin no longer stabbed by icy pinpricks. The second thing he noticed, eyes fluttering open and a confused expression settling on his features, were the numerous blankets he was wrapped in and the ache settled in his limbs. His whole body was stiff, a dull throb settled deep into his bones. His throat still felt clogged and his head ached, but he was at least alive and not a frozen statue to adorn the gardens.

"I see you have woken," a sardonic voice rang from his side, Akashi settled in a chair with an indecipherable expression on his features.

"Akashi-san…"

"It is quite some time since I have had an Offering as amusing as you, Tetsuya. I would rather not lose that due to your own stupidity." The voice was laced with disappointment, mismatched gaze bearing in Kuroko's soul and the boy nodded, the slightest shadow of guilt flaring on his features. A sharp jolt of pain stabbed him, a reminder of the other's second command and the way Kuroko had skirted close to failure. Akashi rose, satisfied, wings twitching behind him furiously and strode forth, lingering for the briefest of moments in the doorway.

"A moonless night approaches. Do not leave your room before sunrise, Tetsuya, no matter what you may hear." The command seared into him, the weak nod of acquiescence unnecessary as Kuroko watched Akashi walk away.

* * *

Darkness shrouded the room, the fire burned down to mere embers. No light shone through the gloom, not even the briefest ray of silver; a moonless night was heralded by the encompassing dark, the true terrors of the curse taking form as they marched from the depth of the woods towards the gardens and the stone corridors of the castle.

In one of the bedrooms, the shadows moved, restless, surrounding the bed, a shield against whatever it was that prowled the corridors at night. A figure detached itself from them, anthropomorphic despite its fuzzy features, a sword clutched tightly in its hand, a billowing cloak fluttering behind it despite the lack of wind. Its master slept behind, still blissfully ignorant, but the shadow had never forgotten, not for a single moment. It would not allow the curse to seize his master even though the other knew not the allegiance he had the power to command to his will.

Outside, in the pitch darkness covered by the moonless night, terror was unleashed upon the land. Inside, the nightmares concocted by other's dreams, carefully guarded their precious charge.


	4. Chapter 4

_"There is a rumor that sometimes comes from the far recesses of the world, from places where magic still lingers in unadulterated form, raw and powerful, bursting in ribbons of light and splashes of lightning. There is a rumor that comes from shamans, from warlocks, from weary travelers and iron-hearted adventurers. Magic is different there, they say, less tainted by those who dabble in the arts, tied to the elements. Bonds more powerful than anything we could imagine still linger there, bonds more resolute than True Names could ever hope to be._

 _These people speak of soulbinds, of links so powerful that they transcend time and death, magic in innate form wrapped around the souls of those that shall never be parted. Soulbinds are rare, incredibly so, appearing once in a generation if even then. Unbreakable, unable to be sundered, allowing the pair to share strength and magic with one another, reaching heights never imagined before._

 _Soulbinds are dangerous, these travelers will say. The death of half of the pair will not kill the other; no, it will corrupt their magic, turn it against the very world they live in, unstoppable and unrelenting, leveling anything in its path. A maddening frenzy will take over, a berserker rage that will only stop when the survivor has been destroyed by the raw power of the magic he once commanded. Soulbinds are dangerous; their power, a shining beacon to those who wish to corrupt the bonds, to pervert the magic and use it to their own twisted desires._

 _I do not know if such tales hold any grain of truth; if mages in our parts were to be asked, they would scoff and call everything folly. Yet, somehow, I find myself intrigued by this tale and the tale the traveler refuses to utter. The tale of the ruin brought forth by soulbinds and the reason why those sharing such bonds are now forbidden from meeting one another."_ ( Tales from the fringes of our world by Cleric Kimura )

* * *

There was a rose blooming on Kuroko's chest, black ink etched on skin despite the fact that no one had ever placed either needle or magic on his skin. It had been there since his birth, a stark contrast on the pale white skin that had always caused his mother no small amounts of worry.

Already the villagers' attention had been aimed towards him, towards the ghost child they could vent their fear and anger and distrust on. Already they abhorred his very existence, slurs pouring from poisoned lips as they hurled insult upon insult at the teal-haired child. What would happen were they to know of the ink adorning Kuroko's skin, the beautiful yet deadly so rose resting just above his heart?

His mother hid the rose, buried it under layers of clothing and a paste made of plants. As he grew and lost her to sickness and death, Kuroko continued doing the same, kept the rose a secret from the villagers, unveiling it only to the mages that passed through on their way to the castle.

He had hoped they hold answers for him; they did not.

It didn't surprise him as much as it should when he had noticed the rose had branched out, the flower in full bloom and spindly black vines stretching towards his shoulders. When he had left the village, it had been a flower bud still, small and curled in itself like it had been in his youth. The morning after he had reached the castle it had bloomed; a full rose nestled comfortably above his heart.

Perhaps he should have expected his health to deteriorate. The flower was a curse after all, one that was meant to herald his death. He had known it for a while now; he had simply not expected the castle to be the trigger that would make the curse spread.

 _( Dying has never truly frightened him; it had always seemed an inevitability, something he would not be able to postpone forever. Truthfully, he had never expected the curse to be his end. The villagers had taken the task to hand well before that._

 _He had first tasted the possibility in his childhood, his assailant's face frozen in a rictus of hatred as he rained hits and kicks upon the small body curled on the ground, splatters of blood blooming underneath him like a torn camellia. The knife had fallen afterwards once, twice, thrice, but though the shadows had embraced him, they had not ferried him to the underworld. He had survived, a first of many, thanks to a kindly healer and his cleric friend who had noticed the rose while tending to his wounds._

 _"Mitobe says it's a curse," the cleric translated his friend's silence. "It's dormant right now, but it will wake one day. To what ends he does not know, but it will bloom like any flower does and when it will start withering, the curse will claim your life."_

 _The cleric, Koganei, frowned for a moment, his usually happy mien contorted in pondering silence. His fingers had traced the contour of the rose, only a small bud at that time, a bright light flickering under fingertips as his eyes went unseeing, his faith calling for answers._

 _"It's destiny. One that may bring ruin or one that may bring salvation. The gods are uncertain. I'm sorry, my powers are still not strong enough to say more."_

 _They had left several days later and he had not heard from them since; the forest must have claimed them as it had many others. )_

When he woke, there was still a claw lodged firmly in his chest, his breath rattling like a rickshaw's broken wheel with every inhale and exhale. His body ached, a soreness spread evenly over its entirety, hindering his movements, making him slow and sluggish. He felt cold once more, the warmth he had found himself cocooned in during the night draining as soon as he left the bed.

Akashi remained elusive for the entire day; the master of the castle must have retreated to the west wing, keeping well out of sight though Kuroko had searched for him. He had not had the chance to thank the other for saving his life, for bringing him out of the grave of snow that would have claimed him and settling him in the warmth of his chambers.

He had also not had the chance to ponder more on the conundrum Akashi had presented, the vivid fear present in the mismatched gaze, flaring for the briefest of moments, even as his words had been sharp and damning. Why would it matter had he died? Why had he been saved? The villagers kept saying that the Beast in the Castle enjoyed in the suffering of his Offerings, but since coming here all signs had pointed to the contrary.

The castle is wrapped in lies, Akashi had said. What more was it? Mysteries upon mysteries heaped upon a place that none recalled where it had come from and what purpose it had served. Historical recollections did not remember a castle on these grounds. The villagers, wrapped in superstition and fear claimed that it had always been there, but never inhabited, not until the gloom had come.

The castle is wrapped in lies. The village is twisted by them. The curse plays all like mere puppets on strings.

* * *

 _"Remember! The curse is fivefold, a piece of magic so intricate and complex that no mage of our times can even think of replicating it. Five locks, five souls, five hearts; open one of each and unlock to the path to the next. But be wary; there is a pattern to them, a rule that must be followed. Break it and pay the price!"_

The library remained silent as he stood curled on the sofa, reading the last of Mage Imayoshi's notes near the fireplace. Some of the dust had cleared as if by itself, order returning bit by bit to the large room. A sigh escaped his lips, hands rubbing at tired, teal-colored eyes, but Kuroko returned to his reading, eager to get to the end. There was not much more he could learn from the notes, he knew, but he wondered what had been Imayoshi's fate and whether the mage had left any hint to it in his notes.

Five hearts, five souls, five locks. Five names added by Mayuzumi to Imayoshi's notes: Moon, Temperance, Hermit, Tower, Emperor. And the questions that still hid in the Sepulcher he had but glimpsed the previous day.

As he turned the pages, red spattering started mingling with drops of ink and shaky handwriting, as if the author had forced himself to finish the journal. Towards the end, the words were neigh unintelligible, only Mayuzumi's translation below them shedding light to the mage's fate.

 _"My mistakes have already been made. I had not expected… it matters little now. The curse retaliated and I am dying. Rose vines have claimed me bit by bit, twisting around my body like coiling ropes that will never let go. Even now as I write they bite into my skin and tear the flesh, rivulets of blood staining the carpet beneath me. I am not long for this world, but I will do what I must to leave the knowledge behind._

 _ **Succeed where I have not. Do what I could not.** And before I die, I am sorry, whoever you might be. I have failed you."_

The journal ended there, with no more notes from Mayuzumi and merely a bloody handprint pressed to the last page. He coughed, pain flaring in his chest, the journal slipping as he pressed his hand over his mouth to contain the racking sound. There would be no going to the Sepulcher today, he knew all too well. His body was still too weak to sustain the journey through the blizzard. With Akashi still keeping away, he resolved to keep going through whatever notes might have gone unnoticed the first time.

The Castle remained silent for the following days; Akashi refused to make his presence known and Kuroko flitted without purpose between the library and his room, rereading Imayoshi's notes and trying to prepare himself for entering the Sepulcher. The rose had stopped spreading from the time being, his body gaining a little bit of strength, even though harsh coughs still rattled his lungs. It was time; he could delay no longer. The more he did, the less chances he held of actually finding an answer.

Dressed as warmly as possible, with a thick, woolen cloak laid over his shoulders, the boy made his way through the snow, the blizzard less harsh than it had been that day. The way seemed longer, cobbled path winding through the gardens, passing withered rose bushes and trees frozen to the very core. It was silent, as silent as it had been the first day he had entered the grounds. The howls of the forest should have been heard in the gardens, but where not, a void of nothingness eating away at anything that dared disturb the stillness. Even his footsteps made no sound, the crunch of the snow and the cry of the wind unheard as he came closer and closer to the Sepulcher.

 _'There is a Sepulcher on the grounds, a derelict old tomb that does not hide bones and dust, but rather a mystery I have yet to decipher.'_

Imayoshi had not been able to decipher the secrets held between the old stone walls. As he stood in front of the large iron door, grotesque gargoyles leering at him from the carvings on each side of the entrance, Kuroko found himself wondering whether he too would meet a similar fate, one bereft of answers and ending abruptly. Hands closed around the circular, metal handle, frail arms pushing with all their might to force the door open.

Darkness reigned inside, pitch perfect and absolute. The light that came from the gardens merely illuminated the entrance, silver rays failing to chase away the gloom within. The torch in his hands flared to light, the tinder making the flames blaze before he had the chance to step inside.

 _'Remember; that which thrives in the dark cannot touch you in the light, but the opposite does not always hold true.'_

The door closed behind him with an ominous boom, though the darkness gave away slightly in face of the bright flickering light. A candelabra stood to the side of the room, cobwebs and dust covering it in a white layer of grime and dirt. However, the candles were still there, untouched and Kuroko lit them one by one, watching mesmerized as the more powerful light brought the inside of the mausoleum to light. There were no tombs waiting within, no skeletal specters or rotten coffins. There was nothing but dust and dirt, coupled with an emptiness so absolute that made the teal-haired boy wonder what it was that all feared so.

 _'Beware it and remember; the rule is in the colors, in the flashes of light that chase the darkness away.'_

Another candelabra stood to the far-east side of the Sepulcher so Kuroko walked to it, setting it alight as he had done with the first. A third, in the western corner received the same treatment. It was only when the three sets of candles burned merrily in the old mausoleum, when their light cast shadows on the walls and illuminated patterns on the ground, that he saw them. On the farthest wall from the entrance, reaching from the ground all the way to the ceiling. Thick wood frames and splashed of color coalescing together to give forms, features. Beneath them dark, curled letters, a sharp contrast with the vivid colors: _Moon, Temperance, Hermit, Tower, Emperor._ And then another frame, a sixth one, milk white and empty, with but two words written beneath it: The Magician.

A flash of light, the candles burning brighter than before, illuminating all the five portraits at once, the shadowed features of before coming to life under the brilliance of the light.

Remembrance; memories washed over Kuroko fast and merciless, burning in his mind as the new set pushed aside the old to make room. Images of a former life, of former friends, of bonds stronger than anything he could have ever dared hope for. Memories of friendships held dearer than anything else, of a love burning through his soul, of desperation and betrayal, fear and anguish giving way in face of rage. Guilt, guilt seared in his soul so deeply, understanding of much that had happened. And death, death claiming him in its embrace, the image of complete desolation accompanying him in oblivion.

The first portrait, the Moon; sun-kissed locks and golden eyes, an insolent smile and the chime of a joyful voice ringing in his ears. Memories of robes of vivid blue, magic blooming under talented hands, copies of spells more perfect than the originals flitting around his fingertips. Above his head, a crescent, shedding pale light upon the figure beneath it.

"Kise-kun," a whisper followed by a crippling pain in his chest, a cough rattling his lungs as Kuroko fell to his knees.

The second portrait, Temperance: verdant green hair hiding an aloof gaze, taped fingers resting above a golden goblet, an emerald robe flowing with abandon behind him. Memories of lucky items being trudged wherever they went, a faith so absolute that it surpassed that of any cleric, annoyance written on stern features when laughter echoed near him, a rickshaw rattling wherever he went.

"Midorima-kun," the memories slotted themselves in his mind, bricks forming a structure that had till then been incomplete.

The third portrait, The Hermit: steely blue gaze and shadowed features, a spear held tightly in a white knuckled grip, disdain painted on haughty features. Memories of laughter, of acceptance, a bright gaze and a helping hand offered when he had been struggling. A ball of light balanced precariously on fingers, the throw never missing its mark. Bright pink always entwined with the past, bittersweet recollections tearing at his Kuroko's soul. A darkness stealing over the other's heart, a darkness quick to work yet hard to be dispelled.

"Aomine-kun." His skin burned underneath his clothing, the knowledge that the rose was spreading once more seared into his mind without need of proof.

The fourth portrait, The Tower: violet eyes gazing with anger, a runed sword piercing the ground at his feet as hands clasp around the handle with furious strength. Memories of days spent chatting idly, snacks exchanged under the warm summer sun, disagreements that were never settled, but had no need to be. A large hand ruffling spiky, blue hair, lazy words muttered in a gruff voice.

"Murasakibara-kun," the second cough made him gasp for breath, spatters of red staining his hands as he forced himself in an upright position.

The final portrait, The Emperor: red hair and scarlet eyes, the air of confidence wrapped around his very being like an unbreachable armor. Memories of kind smiles, of late night discussions and chess matches, of magic dancing from one to another with abandon. A change, gold stealing over red gaze, the words of another echoing in his voice. Betrayal and regret and later reconciliation. Love and loss and pain, raw and crippling.

The words died in his throat, a True Name forming on his lips as he beheld the final portrait, all past memories slamming into him with the vengeance of an enraged dragon. He remembered everything now, remembered how it all had ended and understood so much more. All came back to that day, locked in a past that had occurred so long ago no one remembered it anymore.

"Well, well, well," a chilling voice crooned from the shadows of the room, the light unable to cast its glow to the farthermost corners. "It seems the magician has arrived. Tch, and here I thought we had been rid of you. Master said otherwise, of course, but I had hoped."

Rose wines burst from the shadowed corner, their thorns aimed like arrows painting Kuroko as their target. Teal eyes widened in surprise, the speed of the vines as they slashed the air towards him unable to be countered, not even with his newfound memories.

"Begone!" A soft voice echoed, a shadowy wall rising around Kuroko, familiar and long-forgotten, shielding him from the thorns mere moments before their target would have been reached. The candles flared in the room, a powerful, bright blaze that should not have been possible, growing in intensity until the only shadows that remained were the ones forming the armor protecting Kuroko from harm. A piercing wail announced the departure of the unseen enemy, the dark shield dispelling as soon as the danger had passed, allowing Kuroko to behold his savior.

"It has been a while, Master."


	5. Chapter 5

_"Magical bonds are no novelty in the world we live in. A secret unlocked since the dawn of time, such bonds have often been used by wielders to forge strong connections and increase power, to share strength with one another and communicate without words. In time, their use has been extended; nowadays magical bonds can serve as adoption bindings, as betrothal contracts and even as wedding vows, the strength of the bond often acting as testimony to the truthfulness of the union. These links are never to be used casually, in jest or in dare, for they can harm those attempting to forge the link and repay their folly in the cruelest of manners._

 _Blood bonds are considered magical bonds as well, though their use is restricted and some would claim such magic to be inherently dark, a magic of subjugation that could allow control over one's actions if used unscrupulously. However, blood bonds were never meant to be used for malicious purposes, but rather they were meant to form connections where the deepest level of trust was involved. There have been many instances of such bonds in the past, the magic and lifeblood shared among such ceremonies creating a nigh unbreakable link._

 _In truth, the difference between magical bonds and blood bonds lies in their purpose. Where the former links people together for the innocent occurrences of everyday life, the latter ties them intrinsically together, a blend of souls and minds that betrays tumultuous times to come, events that could lead to either greatness or ruin._

 _Most magic wielders would claim this to be all, putting emphasis on merely these two types of bonds. Yet, there is another type, an element of the arcane that has long been kept under lock and key out of fear of it being misused. Spirit bonds, perhaps the strongest magical bonds, second only to the legendary soulbinds that few truly believe in."_ ( Magical bonds and how they are used by Mage Araki )

* * *

"It has been a while, Master."

Everything remained arrested in a moment; blue gaze widened as the voice stepped into sight, warm smile and jovial eyes beholding the teal-haired boy. A while; such an innocuous word, one unable to convey all that lingers in the in-between. A while is a day, a week, a month, a year perhaps, a period of defined time passing between meetings when all parties left behind are whole and hale. A while is certainty, the knowledge that one day their paths will cross again, a hopeful farewell lingering in the passage of time counting the seconds until a reunion has the chance to occur.

A while is not death stealing in their midst, the touch of nothingness brushing over eyelids as all fades to darkness, oblivion cradling them in its arms. A while is not endlessness or as good as, centuries without count mingling together in an unrelenting flow where time bleeds into itself, stagnate to one when all others continued moving forth. A while is not a world of shadows and darkness, a world of illusions and invisibility that one must govern while nurturing the hope that one day things might change. No, a while is not the word Kuroko would use to describe the time elapsed since they had last set eyes upon one another.

Eternity might be more fitting.

"Ogiwara-kun," the name was whispered, fearful syllables falling from unwilling lips, as if the mere uttering of the word would make the vision in front of his eyes disperse. But, when the last echo had faded in the cavernous mausoleum and silence had reclaimed its barely lost dominion, Ogiwara was still there, smiling and bright, an oak staff adorned by a scarlet garnet resting comfortably in a slack grasp, unchanged as he had been when Kuroko had last beheld him. Only his expression was different, joy where once was grief, a proud smile replacing the anguished despair of before.

A shuddered exhale passed his lips, disbelief replaced by pure, unbridled glee as Kuroko allowed himself to believe that the sight in front of his eyes was true. A tearful smile broke across normally placid features, laughter bubbling inside.

"I thought we had an agreement, Ogiwara-kun," Kuroko said in mock displeasure, delight still vivid on his features as he crossed the distance towards his oldest friend. His feet wobbled, the pain of the curse still boiling in his veins, yet he forced himself to ignore it, if only for a moment.

"I am still your apprentice, Kuroko. It's only proper to address you such," the newcomer teased gently, his arms going around the other, half in support and half in long-ingrained desire to draw him close, to feel a heartbeat beneath his touch once more and not the cold pallor of death. How long it had been; until that very moment Ogiwara had not realized how long it had been and how dearly he had missed Kuroko. Now, it seemed a piecing part of his heart was finally slotting back in place.

"You are my friend, Ogiwara-kun. And I'm sorry, I'm sorry it wasn't fair of me," a sob broke the teal haired boy's less than coherent mumbling, the happy tears of before turning to anguish as Kuroko looked back on past that had just returned to his recollection, on the fate he had damned his friend to.

"Kuroko, it was not your fault. I never blamed you, not for one moment," Ogiwara's words were fierce, brimming determination wrapped around each syllable, punctuating the truth beneath it. "What that man tried, no, what he did was abominable, a perversion of nature itself. Had you not acted, I do not wish to think of the consequences. And the fact that you managed when…" he pushed back the words lodged in his throat, casting aside the memories of that day for the moment. "I do not blame you. You should not blame yourself either. What was done was the only course of action left to us. Anything else would have been nothing short of complete annihilation."

"Ogiwara-kun…"

"Come, it is no use to look upon those days. They have long passed. I cannot linger for long; the curse does not allow it. And if we wish to break it, you must move forth. Already the mage has given you some clues. He was the one that made it the farthest, him and the cleric, but neither held any hope any further. Not with the Others lurking in the dark."

Kuroko nodded, understanding what his friend had wished to convey. The curse was tied intrinsically to their past, wrapped around happenings that had warped the very world they liked in. Newcomers had no chance to break it; he knew it now, though he had not known it before.

"You have realized what this place is, have you not?" Ogiwara inquired.

"Teiko… Teiko Academy," Kuroko whispered, now seeing the castle in a different light, shadows and cobwebs replaced by handwoven tapestries and the brilliant flare of magic. Silence overtaken by raucous laughter, hallways echoing with the rush of steps and the booms of spells. The library, so still and derelict, overlapped with the most comprehensive collection of spell tomes in known history. And the Sepulcher, the place where they were all trapped was the final battlefield, the hill that had seen their death, the earth that had claimed their broken bodies, cradled them in its soil and erased them from remembrance ever more.

"Yes, it is Teiko, a Teiko where time has been altered by the curse. It has been slowed down, stagnant almost. Whoever passes the borders of the village is branded irrevocably, their memories twisted to fit with the story told in the village. Outside this bubble, the world has changed; monarchs have reigned and died, mountains have corroded in the sea and the strangers still passing the border are hunting a wisp of a legend. However, the moment they pass the borders of the village, they are made to believe what the curse wishes them to."

Perhaps it should have surprised Kuroko; however, there had always been an otherworldly atmosphere clinging to the village, an ethereal quality separate from the forest and the castle. Then there were the travelers, the ones that clung to awareness a while longer than the rest. Those that claimed the village was not marked on any maps, that no King had sent them for no one knew of such a village. The knights that patrolled the land and stumbled across a settlement that should never have existed. The clerics whose faith drove them across the world, leading their steps to a cursed place long stricken out of recollection.

The villagers never remembered the almost mad ramblings of the strangers crossing the borders, never recalled the moment of uncertainty before a lie dug its claws in their minds, leading their footsteps towards the forest.

"The key to breaking the curse lies here, in this Sepulcher, where all comes full circle once more. Your memories might fade outside its walls, I cannot say for sure. But here, you are the other side of the coin, the contrast to their existence. They do not remember; nay they cannot remember. The curse makes it so. And here, you cannot forget. You must make them remember, but do not break the pattern."

 _'Remember; the rule is in the colors, in the flashes of light that chase the darkness away. But be wary; there is a pattern to them, a rule that must be followed. Break it and pay the price! '_

Imayoshi had been able to see much, but not enough. Not everything that had to be seen. The pattern was not only in the colors, but also in the symbols etched in paint on the wooden frames.

"The paintings are portals, doorways to the prisons in which they are being held. They are caught in a time loop forever believing they are the symbols etched on their tarot cards. Apart from one; you already know where Akashi-san dwells and he is as oblivious as the others. You will have to break the sigils on their portraits; to remember is to be free. Only when the five locks are broken will the curse stand a chance to be lifted. But he too still lingers, caught in the in-between like us all. To free them is to free him."

' _Five locks, five souls, five hearts; open one of each and unlock to the path to the next.'_

So, Imayoshi had been correct once more. He had been close, closer than anyone could have ever hoped to come. Part of Kuroko wondered what it was that led the mage to a truth so close to the reality keeping them all chained.

"With each portrait you will unlock, the curse will spread. It is made to hinder you till the very end, an attempt to claim your life before you are able to return everything to what had been. The command Akashi-san placed upon you was ill done, but it can end up aiding you. It is a double-edged blade, Kuroko. As long as you are successful as you set upon dismantling the curse upon the castle, the command will aid you, keep the rose from spreading as much as it can. Its strength pales in comparison to that of the curse. But if you fail, it will hasten the effects of the curse etched on your skin. I cannot say more; the rest you will discover for yourself."

Already, as he spoke, Ogiwara's presence started faltering, shadows rolling at his feet, grasping with desperation at the staff shedding a pale red light in the mausoleum. His features obscured, a fuzzy darkness stealing over then and he smiled, sadly, regret vivid in warm, brown eyes.

"I wish I could aid you more. Remember, the light hides dangers the darkness cannot thwart. Trust in yourself and trust in them.

"Thank you, Ogiwara-kun," a few tears lingered on Kuroko's eyelashes as his features morphed, determination growing stronger with each passing moment. He had even more to lose than before; he would not fail, not again. Though, as Ogiwara almost disappeared from sight, a question lingered on his lips, the desire to ask overwhelmed by the fear for the answer to come. As if understanding his friend's reticence, the other smiled, a reassuring tilt to his voice as he answered.

"Do not worry. He is well; he is guarding the others as he has promised and will reveal himself to you when the time is right. Keep hope, Kuroko, you are not alone. Not anymore."

The powerful blaze of the candles died down, the unnatural light returning to its pale softness, flickering shadows dancing on the cold, stone floor. The door strung open, remaining slightly ajar as if beckoning the one inside the leave the desolate premises of the now silent mausoleum. His body shook; the strength that had sustained him after the curse's attack had been all but spent, his discussion with Ogiwara as draining as it had been enlightening. Kuroko made his way outside, the expanse of white overlaid upon the decaying gardens mocking him with their vastness, the trip back to the castle a daunting ordeal that he was unsure whether he could undertake.

However, he held no choice; lingering in the cold was not an option available, not when his body was already wrecked with shivers, the biting wind pressing mercilessly against him, taking advantage of the frailty already claiming more and more of him. His skin felt tight, itching as if not his own, abused muscled pleading for clemency as he placed one step in front of the other, movement fueled only by stubborn determination and the knowledge now sitting in his soul, the memories wrapped around his very heart, squeezing tightly. A whirlwind of emotions battled for supremacy inside him, delight and hope and longing, though the prevalent feeling was guilt, remorse echoing a drum of thoughts wrapped in anguish and contrition.

He stumbled, feet losing their purchase on the slippery ground, knees buckling beneath him in fatigue, the strength to remain upright lost during the trek through the gardens. His fall was assured, yet no pain came, no brutal contact with the icy ground, rocks tearing at cloth and flesh, roots pressing in the soft tissue. Instead, he found his grasp meeting not ice, but rather a softness akin to fur, shadows slowly coalescing under his touch, breaking his contact with the ground and lifting him gently. The amorphous mass consolidated in a shape, canine in form though larger than any dog or wolf that had ever walked the land.

"Nigou," Kuroko breathed in surprise as phantom paws made their way forth, the shadow-dog's howl erupting in the stillness of the gardens, chasing away the permeating silence for the briefest of moments. Hands curled in Nigou's fur, pale fingers contrasting powerfully with the dark shape of the ghost hound, weary body settling comfortably on the dog's back. With a sigh of relief, Kuroko closed his eyes, assured in the knowledge that he was safe, if only for the time being.

* * *

The following two days were spent in a haze of fever and pain, his body rebelling against the ravaging power of the curse, working to keep him tethered to the here and now. Knives ran through his veins, agony tearing through muscles and sinew, never once losing feeling or consciousness despite the desire to surrender in the hands of oblivion. Pain so excruciating it gave way to delirium, the feeling of being torn apart and haphazardly put back together, again and again, just to prepare for the circle to start anew.

Were he aware enough to understand, perhaps Kuroko would have been comforted in the knowledge that this onslaught was bound to be more powerful than any others to come, a vengeful retribution and a mechanism of protection, the curse seeking to destroy the one who held the power to dismantle it before he could go any further. Such power was not self-sustaining and were it to try again, the curse would run the risk of collapsing upon itself.

However, Kuroko hardly held the strength to ponder on such thoughts; his entire focus was on survival, the mantra beating like a staccato in his mind – live, live, live. He had come too far, learned too much to give up now. He would not abandon them, not again, even if the first time the choice had not belonged to him.

Coughs still ravaged his lungs, splatters of blood staining the pristine white of his pillow like a tainted halo, a mocking symbol of his all too human frailty. Out of the sudden, a hand moved gently through his hair before settling an icy cold cloth above his brow. Eyes glazed by fever opened, the pale light in the room still jarring and hurtful.

Akashi stood beside his bed, gaze tainted by unfamiliar desperation, one Kuroko was not quite able to comprehend. This Akashi, bound by the curse and locked in a castle, did not know him, did not hold the memories of their past. To him Kuroko was merely yet another Offering, a sacrifice demanded by the curse making puppets of them all. And yet…

"Such a foolish Offering, trying so hard to unravel the curse," the voice was soft, almost awed, none of the derision of before lingering in the syllables uttered in the dark. Unguarded, that was how Akashi appeared, a singular moment of weakness allowed by the belief that Kuroko was too deep in the throes of fever to hear and comprehend his words. "Fight this, Tetsuya. Don't let it win over you."

Kuroko would have nodded had he had the strength. He would have reassured Akashi that he would not give in, would not surrender no matter what, not again despite being weaker than he had been back then. However, all his power was focused against the curse, so he did nothing, merely closed his eyes again, finally allowing darkness to sweep over him and release him from the agony of the curse, if only for a while.

He did not see Akashi settle in a chair next to his bed, nor did he feel clawed fingers wrapping around his wrist, the careful, yet strong grip seemingly trying to ground him to the world on whose threshold he lingered.

* * *

Come morning, no sign of Akashi's presence remained in the room. Kuroko hurt, every patch of his body seemed to throb with dull pain, rooted deeply in his very being. The curse had spread, the spindly branches of the rose spiraling past his shoulders, wrapping around his arms in a deadly embrace. His breath still rattled and his bones still ached, movement laborious and sluggish.

And yet, despite it all, the fever had abated and he still lived.

At the foot of his bed, Nigou gave a happy bark, phantom blue eyes alight among the shadows that formed him.

The pieces were finally falling into place.


	6. Chapter 6

**In the far distant past**

1.

The cottage was small, a conglomeration of wood and clay, rotten in parts and shambling, a step away from collapsing. A straw roof, caved in and battered, barely stood upright to shield it and the door – an old, rickety thing – appeared to provide the only element of protection to the overall, derelict construction. The man on the porch created a sharp contrast with the shelter behind it. A youthful face, where the house was old, a fair and well-kept appearance, the glaring disparity between himself and the place he called home. Soft, black curls framed an angular face, a pair of dark green eyes staring impassively ahead as the man patiently awaited change to come on the battered, forest road. A cloak of silver grey framed his shoulders, a simple raven clasp keeping the material from being swept away by the mild wind.

The change came with a small swarm of shadows ruffling the russet carpet of leaves lining the forest floor, a dark cloud that would have, perhaps, been ominous had it not blinked in and out of existence as it forced itself forward. The man chuckled gently, arms crossing over his chest as he beheld the approaching cloud, green eyes narrowing in concentration, taking note of all that was wrong with the magical manifestation.

"You are getting better, Tetsuya, well done," a hand was raised in the air, followed by a quick slashing motion. The shadows dissipated, leaving in their stead a young boy, teal haired and blue eyed, breath coming in a panting huff due to the exertion of keeping his magic alive as he made his way through the forest. "Your spells are becoming more consistent. It will aid you at Teiko."

"Thank you, Master," a small smile of gratitude accompanied the words as the boy rearranged the satchel slung over his shoulder.

"I am proud of how far you have come, Tetsuya. Had things been different, our apprenticeship would have continued normally. However, as you know, matters require my presence elsewhere. Teiko will help you as I would have and when we meet again you will be ready to assume your rightful place. I've sent word ahead, they know to expect you."

"Thank you, Master," the boy bowed, a brief flare of apprehension flickering on his features. Teeth dug into his lower lip, the involuntary sign of doubt making him appear even younger than he was. "Will it not be odd? There has never been…?" The words hung in the air, blue eyes turning wide with fear and uncertainty, as his master's own gaze softened.

"I will not lie, it will be," the man said, crouching down to the boy's level and taking his hands in a careful grip, "None of our ranks have ever been trained at Teiko before. But, I sense dark times ahead of us. So I must ask you to be strong and forgive your mentor for not being able to offer you better. I regret it, I sorely do. But you will be needed, Tetsuya."

"I understand," a steely determination pushed behind the emotions of before, a placid façade overshadowing everything else. "I will not disappoint you."

"I know you will not. I am sending Ogiwara with you; he shows promise for our arts and in time he could become an apprentice to you, when you have learned all there is to learn. But, until then, his command over elemental magic will grant him a place at Teiko and he will be a familiar face among the strangeness that is sure to be the Academy."

2.

"Mooootheeeer," a whine echoed in the large mansion, the plaintive cry of one that had had to suffer too much fussing and had finally reached the end of his rope. The golden-haired boy flopped down on the bed, head upside down as he stared at his mother fretting around the room and double checking all that he would have to bring with himself to the Academy. The woman, a petite, blonde haired beauty, gave her only child a look of fond annoyance, before returning back to her rummaging and adding another bundle of clothes to the already towering mountain waiting to be packed.

"Do you have your tutors' letters? Your grimoire? Your winter boots?" Pink lips pursed in disapproval as she gave another glance to her child's half-made satchel, the boots in question tossed haphazardly over the grimoire and a pair of night clothes sure to be unusable by the time he reached the academy.

"I have them all, mother," the boy exclaimed in wretched despair, hands moving to cover his eyes in an attempt to cast aside everything related to packing from his mind. He would simply make sure to stuff everything inside as soon as his mother left the room.

"Ryouta, stop your whining this instant. You are eleven, you are no longer a child," the woman huffed, her tone less biting than her words promised. "Besides, how do you think Kasamatsu-kun will react if he sees the state your satchel is in when he comes to pick you up? Especially after spending all that time badgering you to keep things in order while he was at home?"

A loud thud echoed in the room, a certain sign that her child had fallen out of bed. Predictably enough, as she turned, Ryouta gazed at her with a dumbfounded expression, pieces just then falling into place as the boy realized exactly who was bound to come and escort him to Teiko Academy.

"No, no, no, I don't want senpai to kick me again," the child wailed, scrambling from his place on the ground and rushing to his satchel to put everything in perfect order. Behind him, with a hand daintily raised to her mouth, his mother attempted to hide her growing amusement. Perhaps it was petty of her, but threatening her child with Kasamatsu Yukio's disapproval worked every time.

3.

The mansion was quiet, unnaturally so perhaps. Nothing moved in the stillness, not even the stray speck of dust lingering in the air moments after footsteps have stopped echoing. Unbearably quiet others would have called the place, and yet, as he looked around him, the green haired boy found nothing wrong with the atmosphere of the house. His parents were gone for the day, a soiree demanding their presence even as their son was spending the last night for the foreseeable future under their roof. The maids had all gone to bed, the falling darkness calling them to slumber as he lied wide awake, thoughts mulling over all he knew about Teiko. In a corner of the room, his satchel stood prepared, everything packed in perfect order for the approaching journey. On his night table, a small, glass ballerina was captured in a plie pose, the local fortuneteller's lucky item of the day for his sign.

A sudden sound disturbed the silence, the echo of rock meeting glass echoing in the stillness of the room. Another rock followed and another, until the boy deigned to heave himself down from bed and approach the window. Blue-gray eyes shined at him with glee from below, a mischievous grin flickering on carefree features as the boy sent another rock spiraling towards the window.

"Takao," emerald eyes narrowed in annoyance, taped hands moving to push the windows wide open. "What are you doing here?"

"I knew you'd be awake, Shin-chan! You're never asleep the night before something big is scheduled to happen. Besides, when else am I supposed to come? Your father hates me, he told me not to return unless it was for lessons," Takao whined as he plopped on the grass carelessly.

"Father does not hate you. He merely mistrusts you around objects of high value and old age, after you broke his 1000 years old vase. Besides, I recall that mother told you quite firmly to ignore everything my father had to say."

"That was an accident; how was I to know that my attempts to recreate our tutor's spell would end up with my spells locking onto the vase instead of the pillow we had to work with?"

The long-suffering expression crossing the green haired boy's features spoke volumes about his ability of being able to describe in perfect detail – with long essays and diagrams if needed – the odds of Takao's spell honing on just about anything but the pillow they were working on. Instead, he kept his thoughts silent and addressed the other matter at hand.

"You still have not answered. It is not as if we are going to part ways; we are both headed to Teiko tomorrow."

"Yeah, but, it's our last day here," the boy tried to explain in a flippant manner, however the carefree attitude slid off his face like water, the barely held together mask of indifference replaced with the true worry beneath. "It's gonna be different from tomorrow, isn't it? There is no way we are going to end up in the same groups; your magic is much stronger than mine and anyway, I want to train to become a knight enchanter, not an archmage like you. We'll barely see each other and you'll find new friends and you'll forget about me," the boy started babbling.

Suddenly, his body started floating, a yelp passing his lips as he rose higher and higher from the ground until he was face to face with his friend. Taped fingers reached through the window, curling around the other's wrist, the grip almost bruising in its tightness.

"Takao, don't be a fool! Do you truly believe me to be so shallow as to discard your friendship simply because I have met new people? Had it been so, we would have long stopped being friends, as Mother has forced me to become acquainted with a plethora of other children, not to mention tutor's incessant griping that I would be better suited training with his oaf of a son."

"Shin-chan…"

"Go home and stop being an idiot. And for all that's holy, get some sleep, I refuse to weather the road to Teiko with your incessant yawning as companion."

"Such a tsundere," the grey eyed boy mumbled, yet he nodded, face alit with joy as he was lowered to the ground and made his way back home in a maddening dash. Behind, in the cold, silent mansion, a green haired boy allowed the ghost of a smile to flash on his features.

4.

"Atsushi, surely you do not mean to fill your bag with nothing but sweets," his father's dismayed voice came from the sitting room and the purple haired boy sighed in exasperation, already fed up with the attention given to the whole Teiko business. So bothersome… "What do you plan on wearing? Tunics made out of chocolate wrappings?"

"Do not worry, Murasakibara-san. I will make sure Atsushi packs properly," another voice came from the hallway, amused and fond as it always was whenever such matters would occur. Footsteps echoed closer and closer, his father's resigned huff lingering for a few moments in the silence in-between, before his attention was diverted elsewhere, most probably to the apple pies Cook had backing in the kitchen.

"Atsushi…" The same voice from before rang in his room and the boy's violet gaze locked with another, grey eyes full of mirth laughing silently as they beheld him.

"Arara, not you too, Muro-chin," the boy whined.

"I do not know what you mean. I merely wished to tell you that mother has sent yet another of her shortbread packages and it has arrived today."

Ears perked at the news, the purple-haired boy's lanky body sitting upright all of a sudden, eyes honing on his friend. Had his attention not been captured wholeheartedly by the idea of homemade shortbread, he might, perhaps, had resented his friend's underhanded tactics.

"Shortbread?"

"Hmmm, yes. Also, a batch of raisin cookies for when we go to Teiko. But, I fear I may have to leave them behind. You see, my satchel is already full and your father won't give me an extra one unless I convince you to pack properly," the raven-haired boy sighed as in dismay, hands rising in a defeated gesture. "They even were the type with chocolate sprinkled above."

"I'm going to pack," the purple haired boy said mulishly, annoyance written on his face as he hoisted himself out of bed and trudged for the pack. "Muro-chin would better stop dawdling and bring the shortbread he promised."

Behind, his friend allowed a well-pleased smile to flicker on his features.

5.

"Dai-chan!" The pink haired girl snapped, hands on her hips as she glared at her childhood friend sprawled on the roof of the solarium, a picture of utter carelessness. Blue eyes opened lazily, a hand raised to shade them, followed by a brief flare of annoyance at being disturbed.

"What do you want, Satsuki?"

"Aunt has been looking for you for hours, Dai-chan! You haven't packed anything for Teiko and we're bound to leave in less than three hours. The chariot is already ready."

"Leave me alone, Satsuki," the boy drawled, turning his back on the enraged girl at his side. "I'll pack when I feel like it. Tell your aunt to let me be, 's not like she's my mother to keep nagging me so."

Pink eyes narrowed and the girl's lips pursed in annoyance, before a fake – blatantly so – innocent expression morphed on her features. Rocking on the balls of her feet, the girl's hands moved in an intricate pattern, forcing the humidity in the air to coalesce in the form of a water bubble and letting it drop on her friend.

"Oi, Satsuki!" The boy sputtered, jumping to his feet as the water soaked him through. "What's the bright idea?"

"Dai-chan, do you know where your Horikita Mai painting is?" A shiver of dread slid down his spine as the blue haired boy regarded the other wearily, taking in her wide eyes countenance and her plastic smile. He was in deep trouble.

"Satsuki… come on now. You wouldn't…"

Except she definitely would.

"I gave it to aunt and she placed it in the fireplace. I'm guessing you have about half an hour or so before her shield spell wears off. She might consent to saving it, if you go pack right now, but I'm not even sure. She was awfully mad," the girl drawled, a bright grin replacing the fake one from before as she watched the other jump from the solarium roof and use a spell to cushion his fall, before dashing inside the mansion.

6.

"Aniki is going to Teiko," the red-haired boy pointed out with a dejected voice, a crumbled letter staining his fingers with ink as he grasped it tightly. The news had come as a disheartening blow to the boy who had been looking forward to finally having the chance to study the arcane alongside his brother. Alex had promised to take them both under her wing, but with his brother going to Teiko, that promise had become obsolete.

"I know, Taiga, and had circumstances been different, I would have allowed you to join him. But your mother's health is precarious and I would not want to deprive her of her son. In time, you will be able to join Teiko as well."

Neither put into words the truth they were both avoiding. The boy's mother was a fighter, always had been, but even the strongest fighter could be felled by a strong foe. The illness taking root in her mother's lungs, stealing her breath and making her weaker with each passing day was such a foe. The doctors had given her three years, at most, if the gods smiled upon her. The boy had long stopped believing in gods, yet still prayed with his entire fiber that his mother would be granted at least those years, if not more. His brother could wait for him a while longer.

"Teiko can wait. Aniki already understands my reasoning for not joining him there. It's just, I don't understand HIS reasoning for not joining me here to learn from Alex," the boy replied with a shrug, the plaintive note of his words hidden under fake bravado.

"You really do not?" His father chuckled, ruffling the boy's hair and grinning. Both knew all too well the reason for such a decision was a tall, purple haired boy with a craving for snacks. "You never did get along with Atusushi, didn't you?"

"Tch, no," the boy huffed, annoyance plain on his features as he carelessly tossed the letter aside and strode back to his room. He would just have to study hard with Alex and show his brother everything he had learned when they would meet again.

7.

The massive, mahogany table stretched between them, a physical barrier mirroring the wall that had separated them the majority of his life. Silence reigned absolute, only the soft clinks of silverware touching the china plates disrupting the crushing stillness embracing the room with abandon. Scarlet eyes focused more on the meal in front of him than the overbearing presence of the man at the end of the table. There was no conversation to be had between them, no small talk as most families indulge in. There was just the silence, the oppressive companionship of his father and his own thoughts churning without stop.

It was only as they waited for dessert that his father's gaze finally met his, stern faced features betraying nothing as the man started speaking.

"Seijuro, your tutors tell me you have surpassed them in skill, in all that you have been studying. I expect you to continue doing the same at Teiko. A man from the Akashi family must excel in all fields."

"Yes, Father."

"Nebuya will be accompanying you to Teiko. It would be unseemly for a member of our family to travel without a retinue."

"I understand."

Silence descended upon the room once more; no more attention was shared between the two of them, their focus diverting to the dessert that was just being served. Only the suit of armor lying in the corner remained watching, a silent, impassive witness of the time that had bled together in the dining room, the words left unsaid and the festering wounds dealt and opened again and again with impunity. Once, laughter had rung in that room; now only the silence and the armor's memories remained.

* * *

 **In the uncertain present**

The shadow hound made his way through the castle without fear, phantom paws leaving nary an echo to announce his passage. Pressed to the ground, the dog's snout sought the lingering smell of one he was familiar with, a deep whine echoing low in his throat as he moved further and further from his master, climbing narrow stairs and passing through darkened hallways where his presence almost blended in with the encompassing darkness. The west wing unfolded at his feet, a stark contrast to the place from where he had come, blazing candles lingering on all walls, no sign of dust or cobwebs marring the surface of the rooms. The echo of music drifted to the hound, a mournful violin ringing louder and louder as he made his way forth.

Nigou barked, excitement coursing through his very being as his body picked up pace, paws scrambling for purchase on the marble floor when he bounded towards the room brimming with music. Scarlet met his gaze, a flash of vivid color in an otherwise bland room. Scarlet hair and mismatched gaze, elegant fingers tipped with claws gingerly cradling the body of the violin, notes lingering in the air moments after the hound had made his way inside. Another happy bark, an attempt to chase the solemn atmosphere away and Akashi turned around in surprise, attention captured by the shadow hound wiggling his tail with glee in front of him.

Eyes widened in disbelief, red stealing over the gold of one eye for a moment, the colors of sunset warping his gaze as his lips half-formed a long-forgotten name. Memories tugged at the back of his mind, an uncanny sense of deja-vu washing over the master of the castle as the dog trotted towards him in glee. However, as soon as remembrance tugged at the cords of his memories, threatening to pull them forth, the curse fought back with a vengeance, slamming shut a door that had been merely cast ajar, tightening its poisonous vines around Akashi. Gold gleamed once more in his eye, the hues of red from before melting without a trace.

"So it was you that lingered in the shadows while Tetsuya has been ill. I had been wondering why there seemed to be shapes lingering in the gloom," an apprising look stole over his features, careful movements putting the violin aside, before fingers moved to linger briefly in the shadow fur of the hound. "Most interesting."

Nigou barked once more, joy at being acknowledged replacing the moment of confusion, of perplexity as to why it was that Akashi did not pet him longer, why it was that he smelled all wrong and yet right at the same time.

"Come, let us find your master. I am sure he must be looking for you."

The hound barked in joy, tail wiggling as he followed Akashi away from the west wing.


	7. Chapter 7

_"It is commonly believed that all people have the untapped potential of using magic; a spark of the arcane lies at the core of every being, intrinsically tied to their existence. However, not all have the ability to draw it forth, to tap into it and extract the raw power needed to afterwards be channeled into spells. Those that do become magic wielders, undergoing schooling at special academies and preparing to obtain a specialization that will shape their full potential._

 _Magic academies are strewn all across our world. From the newly built Seirin School that boasts merely a handful of students, to the powerhouse Rakuzan, the most prestigious academy known to wielders worldwide, these institutions make sure that all those with an inclination towards the arcane have the chance to nurture it in a highly-structured environment._

 _However, things were not always so. In the distant past, a time almost beyond recollection, magic wielders underwent apprenticeships for years, learning under the tutelage of those already proficient in the specialization of their choice. A select few had the chance to study in makeshift schools, cobbled together by groups of wielders bandying together to spread their knowledge further. Even fewer had the chance to study at the only academy in the land, a place that was as illustrious as it is now legendary._

 _Although no written proof remains of its existence, oral recollection speaks of a place of immeasurable power, the greatest school of the arcane in the land and the owner of the largest magical library known to history. None can test whether it was real or not; the legends do not tell of its location nor do they give any tangible proof to its state of being._

 _Apart from the legends and tales surrounding the place, only one other element has remained: its name, Teiko Academy."_ ( On Magical institutions and their history by Mage Kagetora )

* * *

 **In the long forgotten past – Year 1**

1.

It was perhaps pure coincidence they had all met on the pathway to Teiko, had all reached the top of the hill and beheld the sprawling view at their feet. The Academy gleamed, onyx dark spires towering majestically towards the sky, solariums winding across the entire gardens, stained glass glittering in the setting sun. It was perhaps coincidence, yet it had never felt so years down the road when they had fully understood how unlikely it had been for all of them to arrive at the same time.

A cacophony of noise interrupted the sight, oohs and aahs exclaimed by children just stepping on the bridge to adulthood disturbing the silence that had reigned till them. A rainbow of colors standing stark against the contrasting dark forest, subdued shades mingling around them as their friends chattered and waved passionately towards the Academy. They did not speak; they did not need to, not yet. Each of them had arrived with their own retinue.

In years to come, they would look back on that day and call it fate, happenstance, the gods taking the piss at them. However, in that very moment, with attention captured entirely by the castle at their feet, they paid no heed to each other and stepped forth, descending towards the place that promised to be their home for the unforeseeable future.

2.

Perhaps room assignations would not have caused such a fuss, had a screeching whirlwind not taken one look at the rooster, before latching tightly onto another, bemoaning his fate to all and sundry.

"Senpaaaai," the blonde child whined, holding upon the arm of another boy, older than him by a few years. Tears glittered on long eyelashes, gold eyes wide with dismay as he pointed to the list on the wall opposite from him. "Why can't I room with you?"

"Because you're a First Year, brat!" The older boy snapped in annoyance, hands moving to forcefully remove the child still clinging to his arm. Two years of peace of silence, that was how much Kasamatsu Yukio had enjoyed, before the pest that was Kise barreled back into his life.

A snicker broke out at the exchange, silver-blue eyes dancing with glee as they turned upon his companion. Midorima's own gaze narrowed, the bright grin leveled in his direction promising nothing good as Takao kept following the exchange between the two boys further ahead.

"Takao…" a warning, "Don't you dare!"

"But Shin-chaaaaan," the black-haired menace at his side whined in perfect copy of the blonde child from before. "They separated us. However, will I be able to sleep at night?" A hand got pressed to the boy's chest in fake hurt, the amusement much too great to pay any heed to his friend's growing irritation. "The gods themselves weep at the unfairness of it all!"

"Takao, shut up!"

"And I promised your mother I would make sure you eat and take care of yourself. Whatever will I say to her now? 'Oh, Midorima-san, I do not know whether Shin-chan eats well or not. For all I know he may very well be eating his lucky items.'"

"We all eat in the main hall, you imbecile!" Midorima snapped with fury, turning around and stalking ahead towards his own assigned room, leaving his childhood friend behind doubled in laughter. His relief at being away from the teasing of before bled out suddenly realizing that he was to room with the howling golden haired, child and another boy, one Aomine Daiki. So that was why Cancer was ranked last that day…

3.

The bed was small, but comfortable, a soft mattress and a woolen blanket seeming the height of luxury to one who had spent the past two years sleeping in straw. Ogiwara sighed in blissful relief, tilting backward and falling on the bed, allowing the softness to engulf him with abandon. A bright grin spread over his features, dark brown gaze turning to his friend that watched him from the shadows with a bemused expression.

"Kuroko! Kuroko, I can die happy now. This bed is better than anything I have ever imagined. After the straw and the rocks and the ground…" his arms stretched in glee, fingers fisting in the fluffy pillow, pulling it into his arms and pressing it close. Kuroko said nothing, merely smiled indulgently at the antics of his best friend.

The door flung open all of a sudden, a still snickering boy entering the premise and stopping short at the sight of the other two in the room. Ogiwara opened his eyes, head raising in a lazy gesture as he beheld their third roommate, whereas Kuroko merely stepped out of the shadows, a polite smile etched on his features. A sort of apprehension filled the two, the fright of the unknown and for a moment all stood still waiting to see how everything would unfold.

"Oh, hey! You must be my roommates."

"That's right," Ogiwara said, rising on his elbows to meet the newcomer's gaze more squarely. "You must be Takao-kun, right?"

"That's right. Takao Kazunari," the easy-going grin of the grey eyed boy and his carefree mannerism seemed to dispel some of the tenseness in the atmosphere. Ogiwara grinned, hoisting himself upright, before introducing himself.

"I'm Ogiwara Shigehiro."

"And I am Kuroko Tetsuya," the blue haired boy announced from the corner of the room. "Nice to meet you, Takao-kun."

"So, Tet-chan and Shige-chan, then," Takao beamed in delight, moving to claim the still unoccupied bed in the room. "Nice to meet you two."

4.

The magical aptitudes tests were gruesome, three days of exhausting and body numbing assessments meant to bring each of those undertaking them to the very limit and push them well beyond it. Three days of seeing where they fit, whether the specializations they had honed skills for all those past years were appropriate for them or whether they would face disappointment and be assigned elsewhere.

Himuro found it hard not to resent Atsushi for the nonchalance with which he seemed to have passed his own tests, for the inborn potential the boy commanded with ease and without need for extra training. Whereas Himuro spent his days chanting under his breath, channeling spell after spell after spell in each of his free moments, Atsushi spent his time lazing around, eating sweets and complaining. However, it was just as hard to allow that resentment to fester, when the purple haired boy plastered himself next to Himuro whenever the raven-haired boy studied, munching on a stick of candied sugar and offering his batch of sweets to the other.

In the few rare moments they were not together, when Atsushi was off to undertake another test and Himuro was closeted in the library, the silence seemed almost oppressive, the lack of companionship eerie after spending years in each other's pockets.

"Himuro-kun, what specialization to you wish to be classified in?" Their roommate, Ryo, had been a startling surprise. Neither of them had been quite sure how to deal with the boy's apologetic nature – Atsushi had called him bothersome, but then again mostly everyone appeared such to his friend – but as far as roommates went, Ryo was tidy and silent, knowing perfectly well when to make his presence known and when not to.

"A knight enchanter perhaps. Or an elemental mage," Himuro mused, teeth nibbling on the quill he was using as he sought the answer to a question on the history of the arcane. "How about you, Sakurai?"

"Well, mother kept nagging me back home about being an elemental mage, but I think I'd like to be an alchemist. I just hope I don't end up a healer. I do not have an ounce of inclination for the healing arts."

Himuro snorted in laughter; an understatement if there ever was one. He had seen Sakurai try to heal one of his paper cuts and ending up with an extra finger for his trouble. The resident healer had been most displeased to see him.

5.

A silver haired man stood on the dais, sharp eyes narrowed in a faux benign appearance, a cold smile etched on his face as he regarded the first years gathered at attention at his feet. Robes of dark blue fluttered without wind around him, the latent power of his magic manifesting in the circles of air fluttering continuously beneath his feet. The silence that awaited his speech kept everyone arrested, the fidgeting nervousness of before quieted as soon as he had made his presence known.

"It is time to announce the test results. Teiko Academy prides itself with only accepting the best magical wielders in the land. Those of you that have not placed in any specialization will be asked to gather your belongings and leave the premises as soon as possible. For the rest, the first step in your magical education has been undertaken. It is just one of many that will guide you in life. Keep a steady course and do not falter. Sanada, if you please!"

Another man stepped forth on the dais, a roll of parchment floating before his eyes. Scanning the gathered crowd briefly, for just one moment gave an imperceptible nod of approval, before starting to read the list.

"First specialization – Archmages: Akashi Seijuurou, Haizaki Shougo, Aomine Daiki, Kise Ryouta, Midorima Shintarou, Murasakibara Atsushi."

Those whose names were called formed a neat row under the archmage emblem, waiting patiently for the ceremony to come to an end in order to progress to the next stage.

"Second specialization – Knight enchanter: Nebuya Eikichi, Takao Kazunari, Kawahara Kouichi, Tsugawa Tomoki, Himuro Tatsuya. Third specialization – Elementalism: Hayakawa Mitsuhiro, Narumi Daisuke, Ishida Hideki, Hayama Kotaro, Ogiwara Shigehir. Fourth specialization – Alchemy: Momoi Satsuki, Sakurai Ryou, Mochida Reiji, Liu Wei, Nakamura Shinya. Fifth specialization – Healing…"

The words droned on as Takao shifted on the spot, his placement in the back of the Knight Enchanters group allowing him to scoot closer and closer to the end of his row, the place nearest to where Ogiwara waited patiently in the Elemental wing.

"Ogiwara," the raven-haired boy hissed under his breath, worry vivid in grey-blue eyes. "What about Kuroko?"

"He was already placed when we arrived," Ogiwara whispered back, hands moving in a fervent motion of don't worry everything is ok. "You could say he is a more specialized branch of Elemental. Ask him when we return to our dorm, he will explain more."

6.

The room was bathed in darkness, a lone candle flickering weakly in the gloom. Harsh, panting breaths echoed, knees hitting the floor in fatigue and suddenly the room became bathed in light, bright, glowing orbs illuminating every nick and cranny. Kuroko blinked at the sudden brightness of the room, blue eyes trying to cast away the cobwebs spotting his sight before turning his attention back to his new teacher.

A pleased smile lingered on the man's features, fake or true, Kuroko could not say, for his eyes were obscured by his long, purpled bangs as they had been from the very first moment they had been acquainted.

"Your teacher has trained you well, Kuroko. But he has barely had time to scratch the surface," the note of approval lingered in his voice as he offered a hand to the teal haired boy, aiding him to his feet. "The road from here on will get progressively harder. In an ideal world, we would have had years, but our world has stopped being ideal decades ago. There is an east wind coming and I fear we must all be ready to brave it."

"I understand, Hara-sensei." It was not news to him; master had been of a similar mindset when he had sent the boy to Teiko, when he too had left his home to pursue dangers unnamed. Once they had been many and their ranks had been able to keep the balance from shifting. Now they were few and getting fewer still with each passing year.

* * *

 **In the uncertain present**

It hurt, more than he could explain, to see Akashi coming down the stairs, Nigou a dark presence pressed firmly at his side, as it used to be. It brought an ache that he had not known he held until the Sepulcher returned his memories, a pain so deeply rooted in his heart and the lingering memories of a bond, stronger than anything else, uniting two souls that now stood parted. Perhaps it would have been easier if Ogiwara had been right and his memories had not extended beyond the borders of the mausoleum; perhaps it would have hurt less. But the memories were there, raw and bleeding out, a festering wound etched firmly in his recollection, a bittersweet echo of the past. He could not forget them, nor could he fully embrace them, not with Akashi remembering nothing of their shared past, not with the others trapped in paintings in a derelict mausoleum

He had to move on; he had to push aside the hurt and the pain and the overbearing guilt. Otherwise they would not stand a chance. And he would win, as he had wanted to, despite all the sacrifices they had done in the past to keep him from doing so. It would all be futile.

"Go to your master," Akashi prompted the dog, a soft nudge of his hand – such a familiar gesture – prodding the ghost hound forth, eliciting a happy bark and a shadowy mass bounding down the stairs, skidding to a halt at Kuroko's side. "I admit to being quite surprised at his appearance. It is seldom that one wins the loyalty of such a specter."

"Nigou used to be my dog," Kuroko explained, his placid expression and emotionless tone of voice effectively hiding the mountain of hurt beneath. "He was a gift from someone very precious. When he died," he choked back the words that threatened to burst forth, the truth lingering beneath. Nigou had not died, he had been killed. "When he died, Nigou chose to come back in such a form. Though, I had not expected him to be able to obtain physical form in this place."

How much was the curse and how much was backslash? How much was their enemy's hand and how much was their own magic trying to contain something that normally could never had been contained? It all came boiling down to that day, to that final battle, to his death. But, until the others remembered, he could not know. Oblivion had claimed him long before the end.

"Loyalty. Rare to find nowadays," Akashi mused, glancing at the dog with intense scrutiny as if trying to fit it in the whole puzzle that had been their interaction since the moment Kuroko had stepped foot inside the castle.

"Not as hard as you would believe," Kuroko shot back, though in truth his belief stemmed from a world centuries long gone, not for present that he did not know.

"Is that so? Tell me, Tetsuya," the master of the castle came closer, stepping in the boy's personal space, mismatched gaze cutting right into Kuroko's soul, almost as if unveiling layer after layer lingering beneath. Despite the intense scrutiny, Kuroko met it head on, unflinching as he always had even in their shared past. He had nothing to hide, not truly. "Who are you? No villager should be able to come this far, no little peasant caught in this web could survive this long."

The command seared into him, but it had not the power of before, the force to push him into blind obeisance. He was and was not what his True Name marked him to be; the memories had unveiled his past and with it, his true self. The Order was no longer absolute, not as it had been, not as the other Command still rooted in his very being still was and though he could not lie, he was offered a little leeway to evade the truth.

"I am just Kuroko Tetsuya," he croaked out, the force of the command still much greater than he had expected it to be. The effort was too jarring for his still weakened self; a harsh cough rattled his breath, specks of blood staining his lips as he forced air back into his lungs. It hurt, the pain seizing his body, the feeling of powerlessness in face of the curse. It hurt and he hated his weakness, like he had hated it all those centuries ago.

Fingers twined in his hair briefly, a clawed hand pressing phantom touches across his temples and down his cheeks, before lingering briefly on his lips and wiping the blood away. Akashi's gaze was arresting, a mixture of worry blended in with confusion and reluctance as he observed Kuroko gain control over his breathing once more. Teal eyes widened as the mismatched gaze flared purely scarlet for the briefest of moments, before the golden gleam returned to it.

Nigou whined at their side, the shadow hound pressing his nose in his master's hand in a show of support and Akashi drew away as if shocked, hands curling into fists as a mixture of emotions flitted over his features, turmoil vividly painted before his shields rose back up and a mask of utter disinterest hid everything away.

"This illness ailing you will not go away, will it? You are dying." The bluntness of the statement might have hurt another, but Kuroko had long been aware of his mortality, even before the memories resurfaced.

"Yes; there is naught I can do about it." Though Ogiwara had given him hope, Kuroko doubted it would amount to much. Even if he would survive long enough to unravel the threads of the curse, he doubted his body would be able to sustain him afterwards.

"I see," Akashi replied neutrally, another brief flare of red staining his gaze, raw pain deeply entwined with it, before he retreated, turning his back to Kuroko and making his way back towards the stairs leading to the west wing.

Kuroko's fingers buried themselves in Nigou's shadow fur in an effort to ground himself, to make use of his hound's strength. He had been wrong in thinking that seeing Akashi not remember would hurt the most; seeing the brief flares of recollection snuffed by the curse before his very eyes was even more painful.

The Emperor came last in the order, the final piece to be unlocked. Even if Akashi were to remember, their time together might very well come to an end soon afterwards.


	8. Chapter 8

_"There is no deed more heinous in the eyes of the magical community than trying to steal another's power, to leech that which makes them whole and use it for your own purposes. Such spells, although known from the dawn of time, have been stricken out of recollection, condemned and shattered without regret, their practitioners pursued until the very edges of the world until they were caught and punished accordingly._

 _Magic lies at the very core of each person; to strip that piece of power from their souls, to break their very being apart, is to leave behind a husk, the broken remnants of what had once been a person, but is now a ruined being with no scope in life. Rumors claim that in time, people stripped of their magic will fade into nothingness, darkness claiming them bit by bit until nothing more than a shadow will remain of them. Lost in the gloom that had claimed them, they will have no way of finding their true selves again, no chance of regaining what had been lost."_ ( Rumors of the Damned by Mage Harasawa )

* * *

 **In the long-forgotten past – Year 1, second half**

 **1.**

'The rule has always been such for our order. An apprentice to take our craft further should we perish. A guardian to maintain the balance of our power, protect us from ourselves and guard our back in battle. Our powers are the easiest to corrupt, Tetsuya. The forces we command can be used for ill, much easier than they can be used for good. But, our order is failing; already so many of us are dead and so many cannot adhere to the rule. There are few we can trust, fewer still than understand.'

The shadows danced at his feet as Kuroko remembered the words of his teacher, dark mass coalescing into shapes in the dark room at Teiko. His master had not had the chance to forge a guardianship bond with anyone; he had merely had the chance of an apprentice upon whom he had stumbled by happenstance. Kuroko too had the promise of an apprentice, in Ogiwara's steadfast friendship and wide eyed amazement whenever the teal haired boy used his powers.

His hands moved, the shapes turning into arrows, sharp and deadly, quivering in the air as he forced himself to hold them still. His arms trembled, sweat rolling down his cheeks due to exertion. Inhale, exhale, keep them steady…

'You will grow stronger than me, Kuroko. Already you show so much promise. You will need a light to balance your shadow, a guardian to steer you true. And when you do find one, I truly believe the two of you will become something extraordinary.'

"Now, release," Hara's voice came and Kuroko allowed his hands to slash downward, cutting through the air and propelling the shadows forth. They did not hit their target; halfway through they disintegrated, darkness returning to the gloom of the room as the spell failed.

"Again," Hara commanded and Kuroko nodded, hands moving into position once more. He had never had need to doubt his previous teacher, but as spell after spell failed, Kuroko wondered how much power he truly commanded and whether the other had not been wrong in his assessment.

 **2.**

"KISE YOU FLITTY IMBECILE!"

"AAAAH MIDORIMACCHI I'M SORRY!"

A blur of yellow sped down the corridors of Teiko, followed by what seemed to be a human sized green clock that was spitting curses as he struggled to remain on the tail of the first. The image, completely out of the ordinary even for a magical academy like Teiko, arrested everyone's attention, eyes riveted on the chase, unable to break away. It was as if watching a shipwreck; painful to watch, but impossible to tear your gaze away from it.

"Atsushi, are those your groupmates?" Himuro asked his purpled haired friend with amusement, both lounging by the window as they watched Kise lose his footing and crash on the white marble floor, the clock behind him stumbling over his prone figure and collapsing on top.

"Huh? Yeah. Mido-chin and Kise-chin."

"Aren't you going to help them?" Himuro asked lightly, already knowing the answer to the question. "They look like they're going to break something if they continue as they are. Most likely themselves."

"Tch, too bothersome. Muro-chin can help them if he wants."

However, neither of the two got the chance to intervene; black and blue robes came billowing down the hallways, blue eyes blazing with fury and with the practiced motion of one used to handling such situations, Kasamatsu Yukio aimed a well-placed hit at Kise's back, sending the blond-haired boy rolling down the hallway.

"Senpai, so mean!" the boy wailed, rolling back to his feet in an instant and rubbing his back.

"What are you two brats doing here?" the furious question was accompanied by him grapping a corner of the Midorima-clock and dragging the other upright. There wasn't much he can discern out of the cacophony of complaints and explanations that erupted afterwards from both boys – library, trying a spell, missed, a mirror lucky item, the spell rebounded – but he got the gist of it well enough. Grabbing Kise by his collar and dragging Midorima along, the elder of the three sighed in despair, before dragging the two miscreants towards their resident healer.

 **3.**

"AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

The blue haired boy jumped in fright, hands going to shield his head as he pulled close to the wall, eyes wide in fright while beholding the monstrous shape made of shadows looming in the empty classroom. However, as soon as the final echoes of his fearful yell died out, the shadows dispersed, leaving behind only a confused looking Kuroko.

"Aomine-kun?" The boy asked, head titling slightly to the side as he gazed at his fellow year mate. Although most specializations had specific classes, some such as History of the Arcane were shared by all. It had not been hard to spot the blue-haired boy during lessons, unmistakable along with his other archmage fellows.

"Jeez, you scared ten years off my life," Aomine said, leaving behind the sanctuary of the wall and getting closer to the teal-haired boy. "They kept saying there was a ghost haunting this classroom and when I saw that monstrosity, I was about to concede they were right."

An easy-going grin replaced the fright from Aomine's features, fingers clicking softly in the air and materializing a ball of light which he then proceeded to spin carelessly on his finger. "So, what were you doing here? And what even was that?"

"Practicing," Kuroko replied with a soft shrug, frustration flickering briefly in his gaze as he thought back to his still failing spell. "It was a spell meant to shape the shadows in the room."

"So, you're an Elemental Mage, huh? Come on, I'll practice with you from now on. Show me what you can do!"

Kuroko did not bother correcting Aomine about his assumption; he was not an elemental mage, though that was what those who noticed his presence at Teiko knew about him. It was easier to pass as such than to explain the intricacies of his true specialization.

 **4.**

It was not the first time they were practicing that particular combo together; Aomine was incredibly noticeable, a banner of brilliant light shining wherever he went. Were it to ever come to battle, he would be a much-favored target, the archmage that shone like a beacon among the troops. That was where Kuroko's shadows came into play; darkness coalescing in mist and clouds, a shield effectively hiding the archmage from sight, drawing attention away from him until he got close enough to strike. The theory was solid, but putting it in practice had been harder than they had expected; Aomine was fast, wickedly so, magic flowing with abandon from his fingertips as he sped from one corner of the classroom to the another and Kuroko struggled to keep pace with him, his control over the powers he commanded tenuous at best.

"You're getting better, Tetsu, but you've got to work on your speed," the blue haired boy grinned, slapping his friend playfully over the shoulder and ignoring the smaller boy's look of annoyance as he stumbled from the hit. He was getting better, it was true. But there were things that were still outside his reach, lessons he still had to learn.

"Aomine," a voice rang from the doorway and two pairs of eyes turned towards the entrance, watching the newcomers' arrival. Akashi and Midorima beheld the scene with mirroring looks of polite curiosity, taking in the shadows still swirling at Kuroko's feet and Aomine's exhausted state, flashes of light crackling around his fingers. "I thought I hadn't seen you lately. You were here?"

"Yeah. We have been practicing here for a while now. The other classrooms are always crowded and Tetsu's elemental fellows tend to throw sideway looks whenever his powers are displayed."

"Elemental?" Akashi mused, red eyes honing on the teal haired boy that rose to the challenge and met his gaze unflinchingly. "Not quite. But I suppose it is a comparison as close as one can get, is it not? Aomine, Midorima, I'm sorry but can you leave us for a minute?"

The two nodded, making towards the exit, with Aomine throwing one last glance behind before shutting the door behind him. In the classroom, the two boys became locked in a game of mutual assessment, a sort of pensive silence growing between them almost to the point of becoming unbearable.

"I had not thought to see one of your order at Teiko. It has always been believed masters take on apprentices that they prepare in seclusion," Akashi pointed out matter of factly. His gaze still flitted to the shadows gathered at their master's feet, flitting nervously and uncoordinated as his attention was drawn from them to the other.

"Other matters required my master's attention more urgently. Teiko was the only alternative," Kuroko replied deadpan, although the separation still hurt. He understood it, but it was no less jarring.

"The shadows seem to be loyal to you, if nothing else, but you still do not control them as well as you should." The sentence probably would have sounded insulting uttered by anyone else; however, the extreme confidence Akashi commanded gave no room of doubt for his words. Especially not when Kuroko was aware of the same fact. "They react to your emotions; if you wish to better your control over them, keep your feelings inside. Fighting spirit is necessary, but do not allow it to hinder you."

The nod that came from Kuroko was expected, as was the determination flaring anew on his features. "Come see me if you perfect your method with Aomine. It would be interesting to see whether you could combine your powers with that of the others for the upcoming tournament."

 **5.**

"Hey, Shin-chan," Takao asked, head cradled on his arms as he looked at the green haired boy opposite from him. There was a mountain of papers between them, books opened haphazardly and abandoned quills still leaking ink. Neither had the energy to study anymore, hadn't had it in a long time, but that moment of the day was theirs and theirs alone regardless of what they were doing. "Your new friends are kind of intense, aren't they?"

Midorima snorted, fingers moving to arrange the spectacles over his nose. "Murasakibara is careless and lazy. Kise is a howling, whining menace that has no concept of personal space. Aomine is always replacing my books with tomes of erotic poetry when I'm not looking. Haizaki is always skipping his classes, I barely get to see him. The only one that is remotely tolerable is Akashi."

Takao snorted, understanding even better than his friend what the other was saying between the lines. He had seen it in their interactions, in their spell work, in the way the fit so well together. Apart from Haizaki, the others were a formidable group indeed. It made the raven-haired boy so deeply proud of his friend, but incredibly sad at the same time, apprehension blooming in his soul unbidden, jealousy rearing its head though he pushed it back.

"Takao," Midorima spoke up, emerald gaze bearing in the other's, inquisitive and resigned at the same time. "I promised I would not leave you behind, did I not? Stop fretting."

"I'll hold you to that, Shin-chan," the boy quipped and if his smile was a little subdued, a little sad, Midorima pretended not to notice. 'You're already leaving me behind, Shin-chan, you're just not seeing it yet,' Takao mused to himself, hands clenching into fists beneath the table at his own powerlessness.

 **6.**

"They're so scary," Ayumi, one of the girls in the Healing specialization whispered under her breath, throwing glances at the archmages gathered at a separate table in the library. The group was not complete; Haizaki was missing as he oft did, unable to actually be bothered with studying. Aomine had yet to arrive and Murasakibara was merely looming around, munching on newly received batch of cookies.

"Their scores are over the roof," Nakamura agreed, eyes narrowing as he watched Midorima etch sigils on the parchment he was working on, now and then exchanging ideas with Akashi. "Even the teachers are apprehensive. So much power, so soon; they'll be monsters by the time they come into their full potential."

"Scary indeed," Narumi agreed turning back to his work, quill scratching on the surface of the parchement. "The Arcane Tournament is coming soon and I for one am glad I don't have to meet them in combat. Imagine having to fight against them; the others don't stand a chance, it'll be a slaughter."

Across the room, a newly arrived Aomine Daiki, dragged along a reluctant Kuroko and laughed as he took his seat next to the rest of his group, hands moving to steal Kise's quill who howled in outrage. In the shadows of the library, a menacing silhouette allowed a pleased smirk to steal over his features. It had already started.

* * *

 **In the uncertain present**

Nigou raced through the snowclad expanse of the gardens, path illuminated by nothing but the glowing crescent shining above their heads, Kuroko clinging tight to the shadow hound's back. It was dangerous, very much so, crossing the gardens in the darkness, with the protection given by moonlight being almost insignificant. It was folly, but there was naught he could do.

'Remember; the rule is in the colors, in the flashes of light that chase the darkness away. But be wary; there is a pattern to them, a rule that must be followed. Break it and pay the price! '

The pattern etched by the candelabra in the darkness, the same pattern written in Imayoshi's journal: Moon, Temperance, Hermit, Tower, Emperor. And what was more, the symbols etched in each of their frames, directions given for the right moment to open the portrait. Kise was the Moon, the first portrait in the lineup and above his head shone a crescent moon, the same one that now guided Kuroko towards the Sepulcher.

"Stop running and come play, little magician," a voice crooned from the darkness, close, closer than Kuroko would have expected given the dizzying speed at which Nigou was going. His hands curled into fists in the dog's ghost fur; though he had remembered, the curse hindered his ability to reach for his magic, to tap into the powers that had been his to command centuries ago. He was as normal as any of the villagers in his former home, just as breakable, just as frail. Faced with the power the Ones lurking in the deep recesses of the castle wielded he could hardly hope to make a valiant stand. He needed to trust in Nigou, trust in the shadows that protected him still.

Out of the sudden, rose vines burst from the darkness, razor sharp branches reaching for the hound, trying to waylay him. Nigou jumped, movements fluid as water, paws echoing in the still garden as he twisted and turned, seeking to lose the vines still clinging to his trail. It would have worked perhaps, had it not been for the piece of ice jutting from the ground, the spear like icicle cutting the shadowy mass as the dog turned. Though unharmed – ice could not harm darkness after all – Nigou lost his footing, the slight moment of weakness enough for the vines to catch up. Branches impaled him, shredding the spectral form of the dog, the force of the impact tossing Kuroko in the snow. Before the teal haired boy had the chance to recover, roots burst from the ground, grabbing his ankle and flinging him forcefully in the nearest tree. His back connected with the bark, breath stolen out of his lungs by the impact. He coughed, wretchedly, eyes blurred by tears of pain, shadowing his sight and making him unable to discern his assailant in the darkness.

"Did I not tell you to stop running, little magician?" the same voice from before cackled, the pale light of the moon finally giving shape to the features blending out of the gloom. Ash white hair stood stark against the darkness of the gardens, grey eyes gleaming with cruelty as they beheld the prone body of the boy at his feet.

"H-Haizaki-kun?" Kuroko coughed, blood staining the snow beneath him crimson as the other got closer. Vines stood wrapped around his body, biting into his skin, though without drawing blood. Black roses pierced his wrists, the branches themselves wilted and decaying.

"I do not know who this Haizaki you speak of is, little magician. I am Death," the other explained with a mocking jeer, before launching his weapons anew. However, as before, the momentum of the attack was lost, when shadows sprung from the ground, wrapping Kuroko in a protective cocoon, effectively shielding him from harm.

"Man, you really need to work on those skills of yours. Using the same hit over and over again gets old pretty quick."

A brilliant flash of light accompanied the voice drawling in the darkness, shadows curling around it instead of scattering even as the ashen haired enemy howled in pain and outrage. When the light faded, Haizaki was gone, the brilliance too much to withstand. However, it was not his enemy's disappearance that arrested Kuroko's attention, but rather the one standing in front of him, a human shield still enveloped in fading rays of light.

"Kagami-kun?"

Awe lingered in the question, the appearance as unexpected as it was welcome. Though Ogiwara had hinted at it, Kuroko had never expected Kagami to appear so soon, to be able to break through the curse's boundaries and come to his aid. He should have known better than to doubt the other; Kagami had ever worked hard to go above and beyond people's expectations of him.

"You didn't think I'd let Shige have all the fun, now did you?"

"Fun?" Kuroko asked deadpan, head shacking in silent misery. "It is refreshing to see Kagami-kun is the same idiot as always."

"Oi!"

The outrage soon got replaced by laughter, bubbling and free, breaking out unhindered in the darkness of the gardens. Part of the fear – the tension, the guilt, the sheer, nerve wrecking terror of failure – bled away with the appearance of Kagami. Together they were unstoppable, ever had been. With his guardian – his light – at his side, Kuroko knew they would be able to break the curse.

 _( "We're going to stop him, aren't we?" Kagami had asked centuries in the past, before their entire lives had faded out of recollection._

 _"Yes, we will," Kuroko had nodded, determination stark against usually placid figures. Now, after a wait longer than any of them could have expected, it was finally time to make that promise reality )._


End file.
